


Eyes Open, Lips Sealed

by superwolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Character Death, Drug Dealing, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwolves/pseuds/superwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was still reeling from the loss of his partner in a drug bust gone wrong when he transferred from NYPD to Beacon Hills. He was told it would be a slower pace, easier. He planned to stay detached.<br/>He should have known better than to expect anything to go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Open, Lips Sealed

**Author's Note:**

> I actually finished it!
> 
> This was written for the [Teen Wolf Superbang](http://tnwolfsuperbang.livejournal.com)  
> My lovely partner [steammmpunk](http://steammmpunk.tumblr.com) made some phenomenal art that you can see [here](http://steammmpunk.tumblr.com/post/41249601817/eyes-open-lips-sealed).
> 
>  The title comes from "Hurricane" by MS MR. The song was on repeat during the latter half of this and is now the number 2 most played song in my itunes.
> 
> This is an AU in which Derek and some others are Detectives. Note that the other Hales are mentioned but aren't related to Derek. There's a lot of violence, seeing as this is about crime, but I kept the gore to a minimum. See the end notes if you want to know which characters die. Yeah, multiple deaths. I know I'm sorry.

Derek stepped through the doors of Beacon Hills Police Department and was shocked by the amount of activity inside. He hadn’t seen much of the little town, but he had been assured that it was small and relatively quiet. Clearly that wasn’t the deal in this building. Compared to NYPD the department was small, but it most certainly wasn’t quiet. Several people were hustling from desk to desk with handfuls of paperwork. Some were sitting at said desks with phones in hand, loudly speaking into the receiver. There was a group standing and laughing around a water cooler. It bore a striking resemblance to _before_. Derek took a deep breath and stepped into the crowd, in search of the Chief. He weaved his way through the bullpen, trying and failing to avoid making a scene. He side stepped to avoid hip checking a desk and was nearly knocked over by a feisty blonde woman. She turned and fixed him with a glare that quickly transformed into a smirk. She gave him a once over before offering him a genuine smile. Derek wasn’t sure whether she was going to introduce herself or simply eat him.

“You must be the new guy. I can tell by your slightly awestruck look.” She gestured at his face with a wave of her hand. “I assume you were expecting a quiet little town sheriff department?” He could only nod because she kept going. “Yeah, sorry to disappoint, but it hasn’t been that way here for about ten years. I’m Detective Erica Reyes, by the way.” She paused to shake his hand. “That over there is my partner, Vernon Boyd. Call him Vernon and you’ll be filing an accident report.” Erica gestured towards a large dark skinned man who was looking extremely bored as he calmly listened to a small redhead ramble on by the water cooler.

Derek made a noncommittal grunt, unsure of how to respond. Erica had thrown him off his game in less than ten minutes. Squaring his shoulders, he cleared his throat. “Derek Hale. I’m a transfer from NYPD.” He prepared to give her a few details about his backstory but she waved him off.

“Honey, we all know your story. There’s no such thing as a secret in this department. Do you want me to show you to the Chief’s office?” Derek scowled but nodded. Erica led the way to a door at the back of the bullpen, expertly dodging anything in her way. Her quick reflexes reminded Derek of a cat. He watched as she tapped a few sharp knocks on the door and was answered with a muffled “come on in”. Erica gave him a smile and pat his shoulder lightly before heading back to the chaos of the bullpen. The corners of Derek’s mouth turned up slightly before he caught himself. He didn’t want to like her- didn’t want to like anyone, really. Derek swallowed thickly and schooled his face back into a frown, then stepped into the chief’s office.

He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t the  small dark skinned man who was sitting at a desk that read _Chief Alan Deaton_. He had a content smile on his face, and looked like he should be running a yoga retreat instead of a police station. Derek could practically smell the calm aura the guy was projecting. It made him itchy. Across the desk sat a thin woman with long, dark cascading hair. She fixed him a cold stare. Derek narrowed his eyes at her in challenge. The two continued their staring contest while the chief rose from his desk and offered Derek his hand.

“You must be Hale. I’m Chief Deaton. And this lovely young woman is your new partner, Allison Argent.” Deaton smiled at the two of them before returning to his desk. Derek wondered if he didn’t notice the tension in the room or if he just didn’t care. He gestured for Derek to seat in the seat next to Allison and Derek obliged.

Allison went rigid. Derek watched the muscles in her jaw tighten. Good, Derek wasn’t on the hunt for companionship either. He rolled his eyes with a huff.

Deaton cleared his throat. He was holding a manila envelope out. Derek reached to grab it, but Allison yanked it before he could. She didn’t spare him a glance when she finally spoke.

“So what’s the story?” Her voice was soft and quiet, so opposite her exterior. Derek wondered which on was real and which was an act. He shook the thought and turned to Deaton, who was explaining their assignment.

“Two cocaine traffickers on the south end. We believe they have connections to Alpha.” Allison nodded along to Deaton’s words as she flipped through the file.

“Alpha?” Derek inquired. Regrettably, no one had filled him in with the on goings of Beacon Hills before his transfer. There hadn’t been enough time.

“This town has many small time dealers. Each of these dealers reports back to a higher up. We figure there’s about three or four of them. The higher ups report to Alpha. He runs the entire operation. Smuggling, trafficking, dealing. It all somehow comes back to Alpha,” Deaton explained. “It’s a perfect set up.”

“So these two are right below him?” Derek made a loose gesture toward the file on Allison’s hands. Deaton nodded. “So who exactly is this ‘Alpha’ guy anyway?”

“That’s the kicker,” Allison snorted. “No one’s even seen this guy. Ever.”

Derek was perplexed. How could one person organize a seamless drug operation, have a handful of people at his beck and call, and be completely untraceable? It sounded like something out of a high stakes cop movie. The kind that revealed the villain at the last minute and they’re the last person you would expect. Derek hated those, they were incredibly inaccurate. Plus, he was suspicious of everyone anyway.

“I apologize, Detective Hale. I know you were looking for something easier after what happened in New York. Sadly, nothing is easy these days.” Chief Deaton gave Derek what might have been a reassuring smile. Derek was starting to think that was his default setting.

“You are so right, Chief,” Allison mumbled, fiddling the folder in her hands. Deaton rested his hands over hers, causing them to still. He took the file back and placed it on his desk.

Derek blew out a breath in frustration. After all the shit that went down in New York, after _Laura_ \- his heart clenched at the name- Beacon Hills was supposed to be a break. A chance for him to rest and heal. Not only his leg, which still ached from a bullet wound, but his head as well.

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair before getting up from the chair. He looked to Allison, waiting for her to rise as well. She did so, not bothering to glance at him. The chief waved them off and they exited to the bullpen. Allison showed him to his new desk, directly across from hers. It looked like they’d be doing a lot more glaring at each other.

  
He collapsed into his chair and avoided looking in Allison direction. He wasn’t afraid of her, but her glares were enough to put him on edge. Just as he was getting settled, Erica and Boyd hustled over. Boyd tossed a file into his lap. Flipping through it, he saw a picture of a younger man with shaggy black hair. “And this would be?”

“Scott McCall. One of the traffickers. He works over on 25th street. Very cute. Very fast. Plays dumber than he actually is. You two get to go pick him up.” Erica flashed them a slightly predatory smile. She pointed to a picture of another man, this one with a mop of curly hair. She turned to pat Boyd on the chest. “Boyd and I are grabbing Isaac Lahey. Pretty boy, real sweet. Not sure how he got stuck in the game but he won’t leave now. He’s over on 93rd. He and Scott are on good terms, so we figure they’re pretty similar in rank.”

Boyd shrugged. “They sometimes even seem like friends. They don’t really operate like other dealers around here.”

Derek didn’t really care if these guys were best friends forever, but he took mental note of that information anyway. He had a feeling this case was going to be nothing like any other he’d worked before. The kids in these pictures looked like, well, kids. They didn’t look like the tough street thugs he was used to.

After Erica and Boyd headed out, Derek stood up and threw on his suit jacket. Next to him, Allison grabbed a few items from her desk and slung her gun into her holster. He looked at her expectantly. He hadn’t been given a car so he assumes she had to have one. She jerked her head slightly and walked toward the door. At least she hadn’t glared again. Derek trailed behind, silently praying for everything to go smoothly.

\-----

The first ten minutes in the car were totally silent. Allison was in the driver’s seat, keeping her eyes on the road like her life depended on it. Derek was grinding his teeth. He was normally grateful for silence, but the tension in the air was making him extremely uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure why she hated him so much. He hadn’t even done anything yet. Hell it was his first day. Not that he was bothered that she brushed him off. No, Derek didn’t need friends. He was better on his own, he knew that.

 He huffed out a breath but Allison didn’t even seem to notice. Utterly frustrated, he cleared his throat.

“So why do you think McCall is close to Alpha?”

Allison gave him a sidelong glance before sighing. “Last year, McCall was just a mediocre dealer. He was pretty low on our radar. Then about three months ago, everything changed. The guy we had pinned for Alpha, Peter Hale- who has no relation to you, I know- got 25 to life after 3 of our informants were shot and killed during what was supposed to be our big raid.”

Derek remembered hearing about that on the news. It was really just his luck to share the same name as a local criminal. His thoughts shifted to something else he remembered. “Wasn’t that the same raid that exposed a cop as a part of the ring?”

Allison stiffened. Her grip on the steering wheel left her knuckles white. After a moment, she blinked and shook her head as if she forgot where she was. She took a deep breath and pushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Yes, but that’s not what I’m telling you.” She shot him a glare. “The point is, after Hale- Peter, I mean- went to prison, the dynamic of the ring shifted. McCall and Lahey went from dealers to middle men. They have bigger supplies and more customers. Hell, they run the south side. Before we knew it, the operation grew and flourished.”

“It sounds like this new Alpha is far more collected than Peter ever was.” Because nothing in his life could be easy, Derek ended up in a town where the drug dealers were getting _smarter_. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or jump off a building.

“Unfortunately for us, that seems to be the case.” Allison pulled the car over and shut it off. She jerked her head toward the other side of the street. About 40 yards in front of them was a younger looking man with dark floppy hair. He was talking on the phone and had a wide grin on his face. There was no way this kid was a big time dealer. He looked like someone who rescues baby birds and helps old ladies across the street. It pained Derek to admit it but the kid looked downright cuddly.

“That’s him? _That’s_ McCall?” When Allison nodded, Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. “He looks like a puppy.”

“Don’t let it fool you. I’m pretty sure he was involved in a pretty gruesome homicide last spring.” Allison was out of the car before Derek could ask her if she was joking. It didn’t sound like a joke. But, really? McCall? Derek could hear Laura in his head. _Don’t judge a book by its cover, Derek._ His throat went dry. Shaking the thought, he rushed out to catch up with Allison. Together, they made their way to McCall as nonchalantly as possible.

In front of them, McCall continued his phone call. He bounced up and down on his toes while talking animatedly. As soon as he noticed them approaching, he hung up his phone and turned to face them. He grinned impossibly wider. Derek felt like he was looking into the sun. It was extremely annoying. McCall regarded the two of them before speaking up. “Allison! Long time, no see. Is this your new partner?”

Allison heaved a put upon sigh. “McCall-”

“Allison, I told you call me Scott!” McCall looked at Allison with a dreamy smile. Derek resisted the urge to vomit. Erica had said that the kid wasn’t actually stupid, but falling for a detective when you’re a known criminal seemed pretty stupid. But hey, the hearts wants what the heart wants. Not that Derek would know. His heart didn’t really want anything anymore.

Allison’s frustrated huff brought Derek back to the situation at hand. “And I told you to call me Detective Argent, McCall. This is my partner, Detective Derek Hale.” She made a lazy gestured toward Derek.

Scott’s eyes grew wide. “Hale?”

Derek could already see this becoming a problem. Annoyed, he barked out, “No relation.” Scott visibly relaxed at that. He gave Derek another one of his warm smiles.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Derek.” The thing is, Derek almost believed that.

“Detective Hale,” Derek replied, rolling his eyes. He knew it was a lost cause. This was the least professional pick up of his career.

Allison turned the conversation back to the task at hand. “Right, McCall. Scott. Some new information has come to our attention that we need to discuss with you. Do you think you could come down to the station?”

“Do we have to do this right now? I have some clothes I have to go pick up from the dry cleaners. Plus, I’m kind of hungry. I haven’t had lunch yet.” Scott actually whined. His shoulders dropped like a child preparing for a tantrum.

Allison flashed him a smile and ran a hand down Scott’s chest. “Please, Scott. For me? It will only take an hour, two tops. Promise.” She even had the audacity to bat her eyelashes.

Here they were, dealing with a most likely violent criminal, who looked like a basket full of kittens. His partner was openly flirting with said criminal, and Derek wasn’t even sure if it was just for show or not. They sure did things differently in California. How had this become his life? Derek almost wanted to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of their current situation.

Instead he gave McCall a stern glare until the kid caved.

“Fine,” Scott huffed, rolling his eyes so hard Derek thought they were going to fall out of his head. “I’ll go with you. Just let me walk to the car. No handcuffs.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Allison was already leading Scott by the elbow with a smile on her face. In all honesty, it bothered him that this delinquent has gotten more politeness out of her then he did. He was her partner after all. But if Allison wanted to be like that it was fine with him. Really, it was. Scowling, he trailed after the pair back to the sedan. They should have been prepared for what came next. Things were never _that_ easy.

Just before they reached the car, Scott broke free of Allison’s grasp and took off up the street. Derek and Allison exchanged a quick look before hustling after him until they were right on his heels. But Erica was right, this kid was fast.

Derek almost ran into a car, dodged around it just in time. The move caused him to lose his footing and he went down hard. He pushed off the ground in time to see Scott duck around a corner into an alley, Allison a few paces behind him.

Derek ran in the opposite direction, moving to head Scott of at the other end of the alley. Once there he realized his efforts were unnecessary. Allison had Scott up against the brick wall and was slapping the cuffs on him. Derek gave her an approving nod as she read the Miranda Rights aloud.

Allison and Derek led Scott back to the car. Derek was limping a little, pain flaring up in his left leg. He tried to hide his discomfort, but Allison winced at him sympathetically. It was the nicest she had ever been to him. It was probably pity. Derek slid into the passenger seat as nonchalantly as possible while Allison dealt with Scott. The force with which she slammed him into the back seat was not needed, but Derek didn’t call her on it. He’d probably have done the same. That impromptu bit of exercise was the exact opposite of how he wanted his first arrest in Beacon Hills to go.

Allison closed the driver’s door and turned to Derek. She gave him the first genuine smile since they met, even if it was apologetic. Derek couldn’t help but think that it was actually quite stunning.

“Sorry about that.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “He can be a little wily sometimes. Are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Derek grunted. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. Certainly not from someone who didn’t even like him.

“Are you sure? I know about your leg-”

Derek cut her off with a snarl. “I said I’m fine. Drop it.”

Allison’s smile faltered before dropping completely. Her face transformed back into the cold stare Derek had seen before. “It won’t happen again.” She started the car and drove forward, not sparing another look in Derek’s direction.

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had enough emotional issues of his own. He didn’t want to have to deal with whatever his partner’s problem was. He hadn’t signed up for that. Hell, he hadn’t signed up for any of what Beacon Hills was giving him.

“Hey guys?” McCall leaned forward, pushing against his restraints in the backseat. “I wasn’t lying about being hungry. Do you think we could stop at McDonald’s on the way?”

\-----

The interrogation room was small, dark, and uncomfortably warm. Perfect conditions to wear down a perp. Derek sat in the chair across from McCall while Allison opted to stand. Derek was secretly grateful for her choice, even if her pity angered him. There was no way he could have stood on his leg for the hour and half since they began to question McCall. Not that he would admit it if asked.

Allison leaned over the table and fixed McCall with a glare much more sinister than any she’d sent Derek’s way. Derek could see the wheels turning in her head. Suddenly her face morphed into a warm smile that was incredibly believable. “Come on, Scott. This is getting ridiculous. Just answer our questions. Maybe I could even get you a hamburger after all. All it takes is a little information.”

Scott rested his face in one hand. “That isn’t very nice, Allison. You know I’m hungry,” he grumbled. The kid even pouted.

Allison maneuvered around until she was at his side. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Then just tell us what we want to know. I’m sure you’re tired and ready to leave. We’re all tired.”

Scott gave her a sad smile. “I wish I could help you guys, really. But it’s just not going to happen.”

Allison’s smile shattered. She took a step back from Scott and slammed her hand against the metal of the table. “Cut the shit, McCall!” She snarled.

Derek cleared his throat. The situation was getting out of hand fast. He shot Allison an annoyed glance before looking back at McCall. He took a deep breath and spoke calmly, “Look, Scott. I know you’re afraid to give your boss up. But if you help us, we can help you in return. We can make sure that you’re safe.” He attempted to give the kid a smile, but he probably looked more constipated than anything.

McCall blinked at him before breaking into a grin. He barked out a loud laugh. “Oh, no dude. You’ve got this all wrong. There’s no way I’d be safer with you. And there’s no way I’d get hurt in the first place.”

Allison tilted her head; clearly she was putting something together. She gave him an inscrutable look before saying, “Scott, you seem awfully at ease for someone in police custody.”

Scott pursed his lips, playing up the confused kid look. “What do you mean?”

Allison crossed her arms and gave an unassuming shrug. “I’m just saying that most people in your position would be worried about what their boss would do to them. Even if you don’t rat, who knows what information you let slip. Why aren’t you worried?”

Scott shifted in his seat, appearing distressed for the first time since Derek met him. Now they were getting somewhere.

Derek opened his mouth to jump in, but the interrogation room door swung open, revealing Boyd.

“Can I see you guys for a minute? It’s kind of important.” Derek would’ve said no, but the look in Boyd’s eyes screamed that it wasn’t something they could ignore.

Derek and Allison exchanged a look. Allison just shrugged before exiting. Derek did the same, locking the door behind him. He wasn’t done with McCall just yet. They followed Boyd to another interrogation room down the hall. Erica was waiting outside the door, looking a little worried. She visibly relaxed when she saw them approach.

“Sorry to bother you guys but we might have caught a break.” She gave them a smile laced with relief. She gestured with her thumb to the interrogation room door. “We’ve got Lahey in there and he said he’s more than willing to talk. But only under one condition.”

“What condition?” Derek asked.

Boyd turned to Allison. “He’ll only talk to you.”

Allison furrowed her brows. “Why me? I don’t think I’ve ever said more than two words to the guy.”

Erica shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s adamant about it.”

Allison frowned for a moment before slowly nodding. “We really could use a break in this case. Okay. I’ll do it.” She turned to open the door but stopped short when Derek grabbed her arm.

“I’m going in with you.” Derek didn’t know her, and to be honest he didn’t really like her all that much, but Allison was his partner. Loyalty was important to him. He was going to leave her hanging while some kid more than likely messed with their heads. Why else would he only want to speak to Allison?

Allison looked startled before recovering. “Okay, but you better stay level headed. We can’t have him shutting up because you went off on him.” She pointed a finger at him before flouncing into the interrogation room.

Derek snorted. Recent events showed that _he_ wasn’t the hot head in this partnership.  Keeping his thoughts to himself, he stepped into the interrogation room to find Lahey sitting at the table with his head down. He looked up at their arrival.

The kid looked like a puppy even more than McCall had. Derek was starting to wonder if all criminals in Beacon Hills looked like they belonged in a commercial featuring Sarah McLachlan. Were there no thugs that looked like actual thugs in this town?

Derek decided to forego the chair this time, gesturing for Allison to take it. She sat down and faced Lahey with a small smile. “So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

Lahey ignored Allison’s question, opting to gawk at Derek. “Who’s that?”

Allison’s smiled tighter, looking slightly unnatural on his face.  She didn’t look away from Lahey. “This is my new partner, Detective Hale.”

“Hale?” Lahey’s eyebrows shot up. He didn’t look as uncomfortable as McCall had, but he certainly looked curious.

“No relation,” Derek huffed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, silently cursing the existence of Peter Hale. Allison cleared her throat, trying to reroute the conversation. “Didn’t you need to tell me something, Isaac?”

Isaac ignored her question. He tapped his hands against the metal table. “It must be hard starting over with a new partner. Especially after what happened with the last one.”

Derek’s heart stopped for a brief moment before he realized Lahey wasn’t talking to him. No, he was speaking to Allison. She gave the kid another tight smile. “Things happen. Now can we get on with this? I have another perp that I’m questioning.”

“Oh, Scott? Tell him I say hi!” Lahey smiled. “Anyways, your old partner is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Allison balked. “And why would we talk about that?” Derek took a step forward, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

“Well you’re looking for information on the new Alpha, right? Word is that Whittemore and the old Alpha were pretty tight.” Lahey sat back in his chair and smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

Allison didn’t say anything. She simply stood up and walked out of the room. Derek stared dumbfounded at the door as it closed behind her.

He turned back to Lahey, who was casually biting a  hangnail as if he didn’t just cause Derek’s partner to have a meltdown.  “Mind filling me in on what just happened?”

“All I’m saying is that if you really want to find Alpha, you’re better off looking there.” Lahey shrugged. “I mean I’ve never even met the guy.”

Derek nodded.  He thought of Scott in the other room, how unafraid he was of his boss. “Has McCall?”

Lahey’s smile fell and he dropped his head.  He wrung his hands in front of him. “What Scott does is Scott’s business,” he replied in a hushed tone.

Confused, Derek nodded once more and exited the room, making note of what he’d just heard. He hastened a look at Erica and Boyd, who both gave him apologetic smile before stepping back in with Lahey.  He went off in search of Allison. As he moved toward the bullpen, he thought of what Lahey has said. Whittemore. The name sounded familiar.

A wave of realization crashed over him so hard he actually froze in place.

Whittemore.

 Jackson Whittemore.

Jackson Whittemore had been discovered as a crooked cop when the attempted bust of Alpha’s ring went bad. Rumor had it that he had been the one to tip Alpha off to the coming raid. Also, there was the matter of detectives discovering his fingerprints on four two-pound bags of cocaine in an abandoned warehouse. And this guy had been Allison’s partner for _three years._ No wonder she had trust issues. And Derek thought he had it bad. Well, no he still did. But at least he could understand her anger and apprehension that was pointed his way. The situations were completely different, but he knew what it felt like to lose a partner.

Finding his legs able to move again, Derek made his way to Allison. He found her sitting at her desk, aggressively sharpening pencils. He approached her tentatively. “Hey. Are you alight?” He asked quietly, hoping she would note the genuine concern in his voice.

She put her handful of pencils down and pressed her palms against the cold metal of her desk. He expected a glare, but instead she shot him a defeated look before dropping her head to her desk, pillowing it on one of her hands. “We have to go talk to him, don’t we?” She whispered.

Derek nodded solemnly. It looked like this case wasn’t going to go easy on either of them. Before he could help himself, he asked “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Allison looked up at him, glaring again. There was less coldness this time. “You don’t talk about you old partner, I don’t talk about mine. There’s no point in rehashing the past.”

“Fair point,” Derek agreed. He avoided any and all talk about his past if he could. All it led to was pain and guilt.

\-----

The iron gates of Beacon Hills Correctional Facility shut behind them as Derek and Allison followed an officer down a musty corridor to the interrogation area. The officer’s name tag read _B. Finstock_.

“I’ll be standing outside the door if you need anything. But you shouldn’t have any problems. Jackson’s one of my finer inmates. Keeps his space clean, takes orders well.” Finstock chuckled. “I guess that stems from his police background.”

If looks could kill, the one Allison was giving Finstock would have her doing life in this place. Finstock looked like he would combust if he met her gaze. “Right, well here we are. Jackson’s already inside.” He gestured for them to go forward as he hit a button next to the door.

The door slid open with a buzz and Allison and Derek stepped inside. Derek’s first thought when he saw Jackson sitting, handcuffed to the table, was that he sure hoped the guy had a single cell. He was way too pretty to be left alone with anyone doing time. When Jackson shot him a glare that was a mix of irritation and boredom, Derek’s next though was that Jackson was a complete douche. Jackson stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, jaw clenched. Then he hastened a glance at Allison and his entire face melted.

“Allison-” he began softly. She cut him off with a wave of her hand, not bothering to even look his way.

“Spare me the apologies, Whittemore. This isn’t a social visit,” She snapped. She sat down in a chair across the table with force. Derek took the other chair, silently watching their interaction. Jackson slumped in his seat looking defeated, giving Allison puppy dog eyes. Allison was pointedly staring at the wall.

Derek ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. Obviously, he was going to be leading this interview. He cleared his throat and addressed Jackson. “Mr. Whittemore-”

Jackson bolted upright, as though he had forgotten Derek was there. He narrowed his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?” He sneered.

Derek winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. This guy was a real peach. He replied calmly, “I’m Detective Derek Hale, Allison’s new partner.”

“Hale?” Whittemore looked about two breaths away from vomiting. The guy was scared shitless. What exactly had Peter done to this guy?

“No relation,” Derek answered out of habit. It only seemed to sooth Jackson a fraction. Derek looked to Allison, who shrugged and hummed noncommittally. Rolling his eyes, he looked back to Jackson. “Mr. Whittemore, we’ve been informed that you may have some information on the whereabouts of the new Alpha.”

Jackson balked. “Oh no. You are _not_ dragging me into this.” He chuckled humorlessly. “As if I don’t have enough heat on my back.”

Allison leaned forward, lip curled in a snarl. She moved to speak but Derek held up his hand. He wanted to get at least some information before his partner started in on the guy. He had a feeling it was going to go over so well. “Is it true that you were once close with Peter Hale?”

To Jackson’s credit, he didn’t flinch this time. Instead he scowled at Derek. I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he muttered defensively. His uncaring façade was falling apart in front of them.

“You son of a bitch,” Allison sneered. Derek spared her a chastising glance, trying to keep his partner in line. She raised an eyebrow in challenge, but Derek didn’t back down. No, he glared harder, giving her a taste of her own medicine. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and turned back to the wall. Derek continued on with Whittemore.

“If you were, then you’re our closest connection to the new Alpha.” 

Jackson turned his gaze away from Allison and let out another humorless chuckle. “You’re off your rocker if you think I’m going to tell you anything. Don’t you know what they do to rats in here?” He fiddled with his wrists, which were still incased in the handcuffs on the desk. He was casting small glances in Allison’s direction, but for the most part he glared at Derek.

Desperate, Derek went for another approach. It was a low blow, but he went for the weak spot. “Don’t you think you owe Allison something for what you put her through?” he asked quietly.

Whittemore gave him a hard stare. He did his best not to look at Allison at all. He spoke through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t owe anyone-”

“Do you think this is a fucking game?” Allison yelled. In a flash, she was out of her seat and lunging at Jackson. He leaned back as far as he could, pulling against his handcuffs. He barely missed her grasp.

“Allison. Allison!” Derek hollered at his partner. He lifted her up by the waist and stepped back just as Finstock burst into the room. He uncuffed Jackson from the table and hauled him towards the prisoner exit. Jackson shot them a guilty look. Allison thrashed in Derek’s arms.

“Look at McCall!” Whittemore shouted, struggling against Finstock’s hold. “He’s like Alpha’s beta. Follow him and he'll lead you right to the guy.” He had this look in his eye that made Derek almost certain he was telling the truth. He didn’t trust the guy or his word, but he obviously wanted desperately to be back on Allison’s good side. Too bad it wasn’t going to be enough.

Derek just gave him a short nod before carrying a still belligerent Allison out the door. Once it shut behind them he set her down.

He’d seen angry ex-partners before, but that was out of control.  “Allison-” he began.

Allison put her hand up in front of her. “Don’t.” Without another word, she turned around and headed back towards their car.

Derek followed behind silently. When Allison attempted to get into the driver’s seat, he shook his head and held out his hand for the keys. There was no way in hell he was letting someone in her condition drive. Rolling her eyes, she handed them over and moved to the passenger seat. Once in the car, they sat in silence for a few moments. Derek made no effort to put the car in gear. He knew that whatever Allison’s problem was, they would have to talk about. Whether she liked it or not. Whether she like him or not. She was his partner and he had to make sure she was alright.

Allison took a few shaky breaths, then nodded determinedly. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Two years into our partnership, I fell in love with him. We knew it was against all policies and overall a terrible idea. But we couldn’t seem to help ourselves.” She broke off with a dry sob. “I gave him everything and he was lying about his entire life to me. He told me he was adopted, but he really grew up in Hale- sorry- Peter’s neighborhood. They guy watched over some runaways and groomed them to take over his business. It’s the whole reason he joined the force.” She let out another shaky sob and went quiet. She turned her face toward the window. Derek couldn’t see, but he knew she was hiding her tears.

Derek was floored. Not by what Allison had said, well not all of it. He had figured her partnership with Whittemore had been more than just business. What he hadn’t counted on was Allison being so open with him about it. She trusted him with a fairly huge secret and didn’t expect anything in return. Derek saw it for what it was. She was trying. She had been given a shit partner who had lied to her and broken her heart. Yet, she was still trying.

Derek knew what he had to do. He had to show Allison that trust went both ways, a concept that was terrifying but true. He forced out a breath. “My old partner, Laura? She was my best friend. Her family took me in when my parents died in a house fire when I was sixteen. I was so depressed and antisocial; she was the only one who would put up with me. She became the sister I never had.” He swallowed.  “I became a cop because she became a cop. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I just knew I wanted to be wherever she was.” He could feel his eyes welling up, but forced it down. He had never really talked about Laura to anyone before. Strangely, it felt better once he had. It was clichéd, but it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He looked over at Allison to see that she had turned around to face him. The look on her face was colored with sympathy, but not pity. She rested her hand over his on the steering wheel. She hesitated and took it back in her lap. “I am so sorry about what happened to her, Derek.”

He looked down at his own lap. “You know, I almost quit after she was- after she died. But I knew it was the opposite of anything she would want me to do. Still, I couldn’t stay in New York anymore. It was too full of bad memories.” There were good memories too. When he and Laura first moved to the city and took in the sights. Making it through Police Academy. Joining NYPD. Derek was sure there were more, but all he could remember was the image of Laura bleeding out in front of him.

“So you came to Beacon Hills,” Allison continued. Derek merely nodded. Allison didn’t push him to say what was on his mind, he was grateful. Instead she spoke to him in a voice that was steady and determined. “I’ll tell you what. Once we get rid of this drug ring once and for all, we’ll make you some new memories here. Good memories.”

She flashed him a sad, but genuine smile. Even with makeup smeared down her face she looked lovely. Derek probably looked wrecked. HE checked in the rearview mirror.

Yep. He looked awful.

He started the car, contemplating whether it was too late to return Allison’s smile. Instead he spoke softly. “I’m sorry, too. For what happened with him.”

Allison didn’t smile this time, but she offered him a small thank you. It was more than enough.

\-----

“It’s been three days and we’ve got nothing,” Derek complained. “I think we can go ahead and call this a bust.” He and Allison were sitting in their car on McCall’s block. They had been tailing McCall since he’d been released. They were far enough away from his place to go undetected but still close enough to see him come and go.. Though it wasn’t much of a tail. The kid hadn’t left his apartment the entire time.

“Be patient,” Allison chastised him. “Besides, at least we’re not as bad off as Boyd and Reyes.” She had a point. Derek was very happy to not be in their shoes as of late. Lahey had been on the run since his release. Erica and Boyd were tracking him but it was like he vanished.

“Fair point, but I feel like we have better things to do than wait for someone other than his mom to visit.” Derek wasn’t exaggerating. The only person who had come in and out of that apartment had been Scott’s mother, Melissa. The woman was a saint as far as Derek was concerned. Every day, she brought her son food- and whatever else he asked for, probably-on her break from the hospital across town. If Derek were in her position, he would have told the kid to get off his ass and get it himself. Then again, Derek was not a mother and he had no family so what did he know.

“Who knows, Derek. Maybe today will be our lucky day,” Allison said, her voice laced with sarcasm. Derek snorted. Like his life was ever lucky.

It was as if some divine entity had been listening to their conversation. Out of nowhere, a jeep pulled up in front of McCall’s building. Derek leaned forward in his seat to get a better look. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allison leaning over the steering wheel. The driver side door flew open and the driver hopped out. He was tall and a little gangly. He looked young, his buzzed hair making him look even younger. His plaid shirt and red hoodie seemed to hang on his frame. Derek felt an urge sudden to give him a sandwich or something, but locked that down. The kid looked up and down the street before heading inside the building.

Derek slumped back into after the mysterious visitor disappeared from view.  He turned to Allison, who looked unconcerned with their new guest. “Who was that?”

Allison shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not sure. He hangs around with Scott sometimes. He’s never been involved in anything as far as I know, so we haven’t really paid attention to him.”

Derek couldn’t believe that. Allison should’ve known better than to disregard something without checking it out. She was a better detective than that. “Don’t you think we should? Especially if Scott is closest to Alpha. This kid might know something.”

“I guess. I don’t really see a point.” She shrugged. “The kid hasn’t given us a reason to suspect him so far.” Allison turned away from Derek and leaned her head against the window. Derek groaned in frustration. He didn’t like her writing something- anything- off when they were so in the dark already.

“How would you know? You said you haven’t paid attention to him. What if he has or knows something that we could use? For all we know, he could be the missing piece!” He slammed his hand against the dashboard, the impact tingled through his fingers.

“We didn’t think it was worth checking out!” Allison snapped. She picked at her nails nervously.

“And who exactly is we? Derek asked through gritted teeth.  He had a strong feeling that this was Whittemore’s doing.

“You know exactly who,” Allison grumbled.

 Derek understood where she was coming from, he really did. They had no idea how much of Whittemore’s information was actually true, which was why Derek was pushing so hard. He put his hand on Allison’s shoulder gently. “Hey. Leave no stone unturned, right? It’s a part of the job.”

Allison sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. We’ll find out more information on him. But I don’t know how we’ll do that seeing as we have no idea who he is.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. We can always tail him as well,” Derek reasoned.

Allison scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Deaton would totally go for us tailing random people based on hunches.”

Derek didn’t respond. He simply looked to McCall’s apartment building and back to Allison.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, point made. But we have significant evidence stating-”

“Significant evidence? I would hardly call Jackson Whittemore’s word significant.” Derek snorted.  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted it. He was actually making progress with Allison and here he was constantly bringing up the one thing that could shut that down. He should have known better, but Laura had always said he was emotionally stunted. He swallowed that pain down and focused on the issue at hand. “Allison, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay.” She waved him off with her hand. Her voice was soft but strong. “You and I both know that his he isn’t a very reliable source. But he seems spot on with this one. I mean, look at how important Scott is to the entire operation now. I doubt that happened because he’s an excellent salesman.”

Derek nodded in agreement. People don’t usually move up that fast in the trade, he’ll give her that. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But if Scott’s important, then so is everyone that he comes in contact with. Who knows what they know?”

“Are you saying we should tail his mother, too?” Allison smirked. This wasn’t something he was used to, Allison’s teasing side. “For all we know, she could be the missing piece!” “ “Sarcasm, how cute,” Derek huffed. He rubbed a hand over his face to hide the slight uptick of his mouth before fixing it into a frown.

“Sorry,” Allison giggled behind her hand briefly. “I know what you’re saying though.” She said seriously. “Look, we can ask Deaton about pursuing the kid when we get back to the station. Our relief should be here soon anyway.”

Derek looked at his watch. They only had 20 more minutes before their shift was done. “Okay, we could do that.” He thought for a second. “Or we could wait until he leaves and just follow him then.”

“Why are you so adamant about this kid?” Allison asked.

Derek wasn’t sure why, but something about the kid intrigued him. It was like the moment he saw that beat up blue jeep a light bulb went if in the back of his mind. He didn’t know what it meant exactly, but trusted his instincts. And his instincts were telling him that awkward skinny kid was more than he appeared to be. He needed to get to the bottom of it.

He told Allison as such, but she shut him down fast.

“Yeah, we aren’t going to follow him until we talk to Deaton. I am not getting in trouble because you want to follow some guy around.” She paused for a moment before adding, “You can do that on your own time, Hale.”

Derek shot her a glare as she laughed so hard she snorted, clearly pleased with her own terrible joke. This only set her off again, and Derek couldn’t help himself. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up, and before he knew it he was softly chuckling. “Watch it, Argent. I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

“Oh- you’ve got jokes? Who knew?” Allison laughter’s was interrupted by the loud ringing of her cell phone. She coughed and mustered up a serious voice “Argent. You are? Roger that.” She hung up and turned to Derek. “Our relief is here.”

Derek attempted to school his face back into his usual demeanor as he started the car. He and Allison didn’t speak during the drive back to the station. It was a comfortable silence. Well it wasn’t much of a silence, seeing as Allison had turned the radio to some top 40 station and was singing along. But it didn’t bother Derek.

It didn’t bother him, and that was a nice change of pace.

Derek’s easy feeling evaporated as soon as they stepped into the bullpen. A loud crash echoed from inside Deaton’s office. Everyone jumped and reached for their guns, including Derek. Cop instinct. But everyone relaxed when Boyd exited the office looking calm as ever. He walked over to Derek and Allison and just shook his head as a screech erupted from behind Deaton’s door.

“So,” Allison began tentatively. “What happened? Did you guys not find Lahey?”

Boyd chuckled, but it lacked humor. “Oh, we found him alright. He’s in holding as we speak.”

Derek furrowed his brows. “Well, then what’s the problem?”

In answer, Erica burst out of the chief’s office and stormed past them without as much as a glance in their direction. Allison and Derek watched her stalk away before turning back to Boyd for some sort of answer.

Boyd sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Lahey was resisting, so Erica got a little creative.”

Allison matched Boyd’s sigh. “What did she do this time?”

“She might have slammed his head into a dumpster.” Boyd grimaced.

Derek and Allison simultaneously winced. “How’s the kid?” Allison had the decency to ask.

“He’s fine. Just a bump on the head. It’s not the worst she’s done,” Boyd offered.

Allison shrugged, nodding in agreement. Derek wasn’t sure what worried him more, that Erica had done worse, or that the others were taking it all in stride.

“Does she do this type of thing a lot?” he asked. Honestly, he was afraid of the answer.

Boyd frowned thoughtfully. “Not often, only in situation when she feels she has no other choice.”

“Yeah, well she can only do that so many times before getting a rougher punishment than a few days off,” Allison reasoned. She paused for a beat before asking, “How long is she out for, anyway?”

“She got a four day suspension, but Lahey’s in custody so I’m calling it a win.” Boyd rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’m done for the night. Today has been exhausting. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Derek and Allison offered their goodbyes as he grabbed his jacket from his desk chair and walked toward the exit. Before going out the door, he turned back. “Hey, did you guys make any headway with McCall?”

“We’re going to talk to Deaton about tracking one of his friends. The kid with the buzz cut.” Allison made a gesture at her head.

Boyd nodded.  Derek couldn’t really tell if that was approval or skepticism. They sort of looked the same on Boyd. “Let me know what you guys find out,” Boyd answered. He gave them a little salute and left.

Derek looked to Allison and gestured wordlessly toward Deaton’s office. Allison gave him a short nod and headed for the door. Derek followed behind her.

Deaton didn’t look up when they entered; he just kept filling out his paperwork with that calm smile on his face as always. “Detective Hale, Detective Argent. What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Derek began, scratching at the back of his neck. “We were at McCall’s and we noticed a friend of his. We think that he might know something about Alpha.”

Deaton looked up at that.  He raised his eyebrows at Derek. “Oh, really? Who is this friend?”

Allison jumped in. “That’s the thing. We don’t know anything about him really.”

Deaton smirked. “So you’re just grasping at straws here.” Allison sighed and murmured her agreement. Derek fixed her a glare.

“Sir.” Derek faced Deaton.“ I think this could be really important. If you just let us follow him-”

“You want to survey someone without probable cause? That’s like asking to be sued.” Deaton leveled a stare at Derek, that small smile never leaving his face.

Derek grit his teeth. Pushing back his frustration, he tried to reason with his boss. “Sir, please. I can find probable cause.”

Deaton exhaled heavily. “Derek.” It was the first time the chief had used his first name. “It’s late and you two have been working all day. How about we discuss this tomorrow?”

Derek didn’t see a victory in his future, not his near future at least. But, like any good man, he knew when to pick his battles and when to back down. “Fine,” He sighed, putting his hands up in defeat. “But I’m not letting this go yet.”

“So stubborn,” Allison huffed. But she gave him a good natured smile. He scowled and shoved at her shoulder.

Deaton didn’t comment on their newly formed camaraderie, but the corners of his permasmile lifted. He got up from his seat. “Alright, you two. Go home, get some rest. We can talk about it in detail in the morning.” He showed them out of his office and shut the door behind them.

They made their way to their desks sluggishly. The length of the day was beginning to take its toll. “What time is it?” Derek wondered aloud as he began to gather his things. He heard a muffled “12:32” and turned around. Allison wasn’t packing up, instead she was slumped in her desk chair with her face in her hands.

“Hey.” He nudged the chair with his foot. “Are you heading out? You look like you could use some sleep.”

She lifted her hand from her palms and huffed out a breath. Her eyes survey the paperwork and other various items on her desk. “I think I’ll just stay here for a little while. I have a few things I wanted to take care of before I go home.”

Derek wanted to object but it wasn’t his place. All he could do was give Allison a neutral hum and a nod before turning for the door. He stopped short when he heard a soft thud. He turned to see Allison with her head resting on her desk.  “Allison,” he called out. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She turned her head, not lifting it from her desk. “Yeah, just a little tired. Don’t worry I’ll be out of here soon. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave him a sleepy smile.

He snorted to abate his urge to smile.. “Okay, see you tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door and into the cold air. It wasn’t as cold as New York; Derek still felt the need to pull his suit jacket closer around him. Wasn’t California supposed to be warm? Just his luck he got stuck in the portion of the state that goes against the norm. That seemed to be a recurring theme in Beacon Hills, actually.

Derek’s stomach rumbled on the way to his, breaking him from his thoughts. The last time he ate was when he and Allison stopped at McDonald’s before staking out Scott’s place. Derek frowned. He knew there was nothing but beer and old takeout sitting in the fridge in his apartment. He really needed to go grocery shopping when he got the chance. For the time being, convenience was his best option.

Derek slipped into the Camaro and pulled out of the station parking lot. As he drove, he tried to think of the closest convenience store, and settled on the 7 Eleven a few blocks from his apartment complex. He spent the few minutes of his drive in silence, not bothering with the radio and its awful balance between commercials and songs.

He pulled into the near empty parking lot of the 7 Eleven and stepped out of his car, hovering with the door open. Out of habit, he swept the parking lot and saw only one vehicle. It most likely belonged to the lone employee working. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Derek slammed the door shut and went inside.

He grunted in response to the cashier’s friendly greeting and made a beeline for the back of the store. The microwavable aisle was calling his name.

He was having a serious inner debate between microwave macaroni and spaghettios when he heard the chime signaling someone entering the store. Instinctively, his head shot up. Over the tops of the small aisles, Derek could see the back of a somewhat familiar head. It was familiar exactly, more like recognizable. He wasn’t positive, so he looked to the parking lot. Sure enough, right next to his Camaro was that gaudy blue jeep. When he looked back he found that the kid was staring right at him.

At least the kid- fuck, Derek really needed to learn his name- had the decency to look embarrassed. A light blush rose up his neck to his cheeks and Derek followed it with his eyes, discovering where it disappeared under that plaid shirt. When he realized what he was doing, he snapped his eyes back to the kid’s face.

The look on the kid’s face morphed into a smirk, as if he knew exactly what Derek had been doing. The little shit even he had the audacity to wink at Derek. Derek didn’t know what to do with that, so he just glared at him until he turned around. Then he watch as the kid paid for his stuff. A two liter of mountain dew, a couple candy bars, and a pack of cigarettes. Derek wondered at that last item. This kid hadn’t struck him as a smoker. Then again Derek didn’t know anything about. Not even his name.

The kid gathered his things, spared one more look in Derek’s direction, and left the store. For a moment, Derek was stuck in his spot in the back of the convenience store, blinking with a can of spaghettios on his hand. He quickly sped to the cash register and paid for the can. The thought of an unsatisfying dinner was nothing compared to his curiosity. He completely ignored the cashier’s attempts at conversation. In fact, he tapped his foot as a subtle signal to _hurry the fuck up_. It might have been rude, but he didn’t have time to worry about manners.

The casher finally handed over his can- which seemed really ridiculous if Derek thought about it. He’s an adult for Christ’s sake. He raced to his car in the parking lot. Hopping in and throwing his spaghettios in the passenger seat, Derek sped down the street until he saw the blue jeep again. He promised Deaton that he would drop it until they discussed it, but this was a golden up opportunity. He couldn’t pass up what might be their only chance. He had to do this. He could feel it.

He stayed one or two cars behind the jeep for the duration of the drive. For the most part, they drove on the busy main street, but eventually they turned off a side road that Derek wasn’t familiar with. After a few more turns down some of Beacon Hills’ more sketchy looking streets and a trip down an alley, the jeep came to a stop in front of an expansive abandoned building. It looked like an old warehouse of some sort. The type of place teenagers would party in. Derek parked a while back, hiding the Camaro behind a dumpster but making sure he could still see. He shut off his engine and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. He nervously tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and waited.

The kid hopped out of his jeep and made his way to the massive warehouse door. He looked back and forth, just as he had in front of McCall’s, before opening the door and heading inside. As soon as the door slammed shut, Derek took a moment to scan his surroundings. There were a few cars parked in the alley, but as far as Derek could tell they didn’t belong to anyone the police were aware of or looking for. He turned his attention back to the warehouse.

Derek watched for about an hour but nothing happened. No movement, no sound, nothing. He was fucking exhausted and beyond hungry and all of this was becoming extremely infuriating. No sides, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t exactly waltz into the warehouse and ask what the kid was up to. Deaton would have his badge. He was just about to give up and head back to his apartment to east his depressing can of spaghettios when the warehouse door lifted and a man stalked out. He was tall, skinny, and pale. He wore glasses and a sour expression. His face twisted as he yelled something unintelligible and waved his arms in a gesture toward the warehouse. The man angrily hauled himself into a small silver sedan and sped off.

That’s when the shots rang out. Two big pops, one after the other. The sound echoed out of the warehouse and down the alley.

Without thought, Derek leapt from his car and ran directly into the warehouse. He  pulled his gun out, still in his holster from a long day on duty, and yelled the standard “Police!” but it was a futile effort. He found that there was no one inside the warehouse except for the kid, who was currently crumpled on the floor and bleeding out from his abdomen. There was a gun, probably the same one that had just been fired, was lying in the pool of blood. Derek rushed to the kid’s side and collapsed beside him. He lifted the kid’s shirt with one hand and dialed 911 with the other.

“This is Detective Derek Hale. Shots were fired at the warehouse  near Twelfth and Pine. I’ve got one wounded and no eye on the gunman. I need paramedics and back up immediately.” He hung up the phone and threw it aimlessly behind him. He focused on the kid, who was awake but slowly losing consciousness. His only sounds were his shallow breathing. “Hey, hey. Stay with me. You’re going to be alright, just stay with me,” Derek rambled variations of this over and over, hoping to offer some sort of comfort. The kid nodded as much as he could.

Derek inspected the wound as much as he could without jostling anything. It was a clean shot through the kid’s left side, and it was bleeding out quickly. He tore his own shirt over his head and pressed it against the wound. The kid squirmed. “I know it hurts, but I have to staunch the bleeding.” This time his words weren’t even acknowledged. The kid must have passed out because Derek couldn’t even garner a response from slapping him on the cheek. Leaning close, listened for a heartbeat but didn’t hear one. Panic rising, he was about to give up on holding his shirt against the wound and begin CPR when he heard the sirens wail.

The familiarity of the moment hit Derek like a ton of bricks. His mind flashed back to Laura. Her blood covering his arms and chest. The gunshot wound to her stomach bleeding profusely, no end in sight. The wail of the sirens, the echo of gunshots as another officer shot the gunman down. The tears on his face as they tried to tear him away from her body. Not recognizing that the hopeless, gut-wrenching wail sounding through the building was his own screams.

Derek was broken out of his haze by Allison shaking his shoulder. “Derek. Derek! Come on we have to go. Let the paramedics deal with him.” She urged him gently. Derek nodded wordlessly. He wasn’t sure when she had gotten there, but he couldn’t help but be grateful that he wasn’t alone. She helped him stand up and back away from the kid’s body. The paramedics descended into the space he left behind, taking all the necessary steps to try and keep him alive. Allison walked Derek to her car and settled him in the passenger seat. She slipped into the driver’s side and started the car. “We’re going to the hospital,” she said quietly. Derek didn’t answer, too locked in his own thoughts.  It was all too much. He couldn’t keep putting himself in these situations or he was going to lose it. Allison didn’t question him when he began to openly sob on the way to the hospital. She only grabbed his hand and squeezed.

\-----

After Derek had calmed down enough in the parking lot, he and Allison ventured inside and headed straight for the reception desk. Boyd was waiting there for them with his phone to his ear. He was calmly nodding to whoever was on the other line, probably the Chief. Surprisingly, Erica was there as well, sitting cross-legged in a rickety hospital chair. She looked less like a cop, she looked young and vulnerable.

The two noticed Derek and Allison coming down the hall. Boyd hung up his phone and Erica jumped up from her seat. “Deaton figured you could use our help.” Boyd offered as a way of greeting. “He’s even let Erica’s transgression go seeing as she’s needed here.”  Instead of her usual smirk, Erica’s face formed into a small sad smile. Derek felt his panic ebb again.

“How is he?” His voice cracked as he asked.. Allison was gripping his elbow to keep him grounded. She gave it a squeeze and smiled at him reassuringly. Derek tried to breath.

Boyd filled them in on what happened after they had left the warehouse. On how the paramedics performed CPR and the kid came back to consciousness like a champ. “He’s in surgery right now. They say if you hadn’t been there he would have bled out.” Boyd capped him on the shoulder as Derek let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His body swelled with relief.

Erica’s head tilted like she was thing. She narrowed her eyes at Derek in suspicion. “Why exactly _were_ you there, Hale?” she inquired. Boyd just eyed him curiously, completely judgment free. Boyd was Derek’s new favorite.

Allison jumped in before Derek could answer. “Hey! That isn’t important right now.” She snapped, running a hand down Derek’s arm comfortingly. He changed his mind, Allison was still his favorite.

Allison turned to Boyd.  “Is there anything else that you learned about the kid?”

“Yeah, actually. He passed out again in the ambulance but he woke up for a few minutes when he was brought in. Said his name was Stiles. But we had the medical staff _and_ Danny look everywhere and there is no one by that name in the hospital records, our database, or missing persons. It’s obviously a fake,” Boyd explained.

Erica snorted. “Obviously. Who in their right mind would name their kid Stiles?”

Boyd gave her a sidelong glance before continuing. “Either way, we can’t contact any family.”

Derek ran a hand over his face. If this kid had gone to so much trouble hiding who he really was, it would only make their job harder. Unless Derek could coax it out of him. The kid did owe him for saving his life. “Don’t worry about it. You guys head back to the station. Allison and I will stay and figure out what to do with the- with Stiles.” Allison nodded in agreement. She never eased her grip on Derek’s elbow.

Erica’s face fell. She stepped forward and tried to offer reassurances. “Derek, no. We can handle it. You’re not even on shift and-”

“I’m not leaving him.” Derek all but growled. He needed to get answers. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he was sure Stiles was okay.

Erica crossed her arms and fixed him a calculating stare. She huffed out a breath. “Okay. We’ll all stay.” The look in her eye said Derek shouldn’t argue so he kept his mouth shut.

Together, the four detectives sat in the waiting room. Nervous energy buzzed around them. Derek sat in the chair closest to the big double doors that lead to the ICU. Next to him was Allison, hand not so much touching his as hovering near it. Across from them, Erica and Boyd sat on a small bench. In any other situation, Boyd’s massive frame would look comical compared to the tiny piece of furniture. Derek didn’t think anything was very comical at the moment. He his eyes kept trailing towards the ICU and wait for word from the doctor. Each time those big double doors swung open everyone would tense. But it was never for them. It was never about Stiles. The cycle continued for about an hour.

Derek zoned out for a few minutes, focusing on a crack in the flowerpot on the side table next to his chair. He followed it from the top of the pot, searching for it source.  The sudden sound of a phone ringing sliced through the tense silence, breaking Derek’s concentration. His reflexes jumped but he did his best to hide it.

It was Allison’s phone. Derek could tell from the ringtone, the melody of some pop song that always played on the radio in the car. She fumbled around until she retrieved it from her pocket. Sitting up straighter, she answered it. “Argent.” She spoke using her professional voice. Derek had never realized how different it was from how she normally spoke. Or how she spoke to him at least. “No, I wasn’t aware I was his emergency contact. Why?” Her face instantly went pale and blank.

Without another word, Allison dropped her phone. It clattered to the ground and the sound echoed across the silent waiting room. Clutching the sides of her chair until her knuckles went white, her breathing grew increasingly shallow. Derek had never seen anything like it. Allison’s face always had some hint of expression. Whether it be her jovial smile or her deathly glare. But now it was void of any and all expression. Derek could admit it was terrifying.

Erica was the first to react. She bolted from her chair and dropped onto her knees in front of Allison. “Allison? Allison, honey what is it?” She gripped Allison’s thighs softly, offering some small comfort.

It was enough to break Allison’s daze. Her face slipped into a frown.. “It’s- It’s Jackson.” She went slack against the chair, leaning more of her weight on to Erica. “He’s- He died today.”

It was like someone sucked all the air out of the room. Derek, Erica and Boyd looked from each other to Allison in shock. “What?” It was all Derek could manage to ask.

“They found him in his cell this morning. Died in his sleep.” She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Noticing this seemed to set her off. Her eerily calm demeanor  was shattered as the sobs hit her like a wave. She buried her head in her hands.

 Erica stroked Allison’s hair and murmured unintelligibly into her ear. She looked to Derek for direction. Unsure of what to do Derek reached for Allison’s hands. He pulled at them gently until she looked up at him. She wasn’t wailing anymore but her eyes were bloodshot. The tears were trailing makeup down her face.

“I’m so sorry, Allison.” Derek spoke lowly, not wanting to set her off again. “I know how much he meant to you.” Allison didn’t respond. He looked past her to Boyd. “Can you take her to the station? I need you to ask Deaton to have Jackson’s body moved to the department’s morgue. I’d rather our people deal with it.” Erica gave him a small nod and smile at his suggestion. She moved out of the way as Boyd stood.

Boyd wordlessly lifted Allison from her chair. He gently placed a large arm around her shoulder and she leaned into the touch. With a nod in Derek and Erica’s direction, he led Allison down the hall shuffling her away from the waiting room and out of sight.

 Erica seated herself in the chair Allison had vacated. “You don’t think he just died in his sleep, do you?”

Derek fisted his hands into his suit pants and glared at the floor. “I think it’s too much of a coincidence that Jackson died the same night that Stiles was shot. They were both involved somehow. They have to be”

Erica rested her head on his shoulder. Derek tensed for a moment before relaxing. It was a different side of Erica than he had seen before, this caring and gentleness. It was new but not unwelcome.  “I wish this could have been the nice break you were looking for. It’s never been this bad before.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s my fault. I forced Jackson to talk when I shouldn’t have and now he’s dead. I followed Stiles with no legitimate reason, and he was shot. He could have died too.” He dropped his head in his hands. “There’s too much blood on my hands.” It was like no matter Derek did, he couldn’t protect anyone. Being a cop was the only thing he knew, and he was a failure at it.

Erica grabbed his face in her hands and pulled it up to look him in the eye. “Derek Hale, none of this is your fault. They were involved long before you came to town. This situation was headed downhill and nothing could stop it. It was only a matter of time before everything began unraveling.”

Derek pulled back and nodded. He still felt partially responsible, he always would. It was something like a default setting for him. But Erica’s words were comforting so Derek was thankful. He pat her thigh with his hand before resting on the armrest of his chair.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t awkward, but it was still tense. Then Erica turned to him with a face that meant she wanted to speak but didn’t know if she should. Derek gave her gesture to go on and say it. She put her hand over his on the armrest and whispered. “What happened to Laura wasn’t your fault either.”

Derek huffed out a breath. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save her and she’s gone because of that.”

Erica’s voice grew stronger. “She’s gone because some tweaked out whack job shot her to try and avoid going to prison. It’s a possibility in this job and she knew that. We all know that.”

Derek didn’t answer, just looked back at the floor.

Erica sighed. “You can’t save everyone Derek.” As if he wasn’t already aware of that fact. His record proved the sentiment very true.

Before the conversation could continue, a doctor made his way toward them. “Detective Hale? Stiles is out of surgery. He’s a little groggy, but he’s asking for the man who saved him.” The doctor gave him a warm smile.

Derek rose from his chair wordlessly. A wave of relief crashed over him. He  gave the doctor a small nod before heading down the hallway. Erica was hot on his heels, her heels clicking on the linoleum. They sped down the white corridor until they reached the door with the number indicating that it was Stiles’ room. Derek pushed it open, ignoring the knot that hard formed in his stomach.

Stiles was laying on his side with his back to the door. The doctor won’t let him lie in any other position because the stiches could tear. Derek had been there; it’s torture. Sucking in a breath, Derek stepped inside while Erica chose to stay in the doorway. Derek made his way toward Stiles, sure to make enough noise as to not startle him. Finally, he reached  the other side of the hospital bed and made eye contact with Stiles for the first time since the 7 Eleven.

Stiles was pale from blood loss. It made his freckles and moles stand out against his skin. His warm honey brown eyes looked up at Derek with curiosity but his mouth was in a lazy lopsided smile. Derek swallowed. “Stiles? You wanted to see me?” he asked slowly.

Stiles tried to sit up a little but Derek gently pushed him back down. Stiles snorted. “I wanted to properly meet the guy who saved my life. Thanks for that by the way.” Derek merely nodded, not quite feeling heroic enough to accept the gratitude. Stiles clearly took it as a sign to continue. “So , they told me you’re a cop. Needless to say, I was pretty surprised. What kind of cop follows innocent strangers down dark alleys in the middle of the night? But hey, it all worked out in the end.” When Stiles spoke he flourished his hand in the air for emphasis.

Derek frowned, it was the only to keep his mouth from dropping open at Stiles’ words. “You knew I was following you?” He had been so careful to keep himself hidden. He was really failing at the detective thing.

“You weren’t exactly subtle,” Stiles teased. Derek heard a snort come from the hallway. Well, Erica seemed to find Derek’s lack of stealth amusing. “What I don’t get is why you were following me in the first place.”

Derek sighed. He needed to get back to the more important matters at hand. Like Stiles getting shot, for example. “Stiles, what exactly do you know about what happened to you tonight?”

Stiles’ easy demeanor slipped away. He looked away from Derek, furrowing his brows. “I would prefer if we didn’t talk about that.”

“You were shot. We kind of have to talk about it.” Derek spoke with as much gentleness as he could muster without losing the stern tone that got people to listen to him.

Stiles thought for a moment. He pushed himself into a more comfortable position. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll answer your questions. But only if I can ask some of my own.”

Derek didn’t feel like arguing the pointlessness of that game so he went along with it. Maybe he could get some real information out of Stiles. “Alright, I can work with that. You first.” He pulled a chair close to Stiles’ bed and straddled it.

Stiles didn’t hesitate for even a second before asking, “How long were you following me?”

Derek didn’t blink. “Since you visited your friend Scott today.”

Stiles didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked relieved. He smirked at Derek. “Okay, creeper. Is there a reason why you were following me?”

Derek smirked right back, and held up a finger. “Nope. It’s my turn to ask a question. How long have you known Scott McCall?”

Stiles lit up at the question, he let a genuine smile spread across his face again. “Scott’s been my best friend since the third grade. His dad lived across the street from me.”

Derek made a mental note of that. It still told him nothing, but at least Stiles was talking. “Okay. Your turn.”

Stiles licked his lips. He took his time before asking, “Why did you follow me tonight?”

“I wanted to see if you were involved in whatever Scott is involved in. I think that was made pretty clear when you were shot in the side.” Derek leaned into to Stiles’ personal space and smirked.

Stiles gaped, feigning horror at Derek. “Are you mocking my injuries?”

Derek shrugged. “No, but it’s your fault that you were.” He got serious again. “How did you get messed up in this?”

Stiles blushed lightly, the pink spreading across his skin in that way that distracted Derek so easily. “I thought it was my turn.”

“Actually you just asked me if I was mocking your injuries,” Derek reminded him.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Well played, Detective.” He let go a resigned sigh, throwing his hand up in the air. “Okay, look. I told you, Scott and I have been best friends forever. But a few years back, he and his mom moved out here so she could work at the hospital. Not only did to strain our friendship, but it messed Scott up pretty bad. He got mixed up in all this stop he shouldn’t have.”

“Okay.” Finally, they were getting somewhere. Derek grabbed his notepad from his pocket and began jotting down notes.

“Eventually, I came out here too. Scott was in bad shape when he was just dealing. I can’t imagine what he’s got himself into now. After he got arrested it was the last straw. I made it my mission to talk to his boss.” It was a stupid thing to do, but Derek respected Stiles’ loyalty to his best friend.

“Alpha,” Derek supplied. “You went after Alpha.”

Stiles nodded, ignoring Derek’s tone of disbelief. “Yeah, but the man I met at the warehouse was someone else. In Scott’s phone he was listed as ‘the professor’. These code names are really ridiculous by the way.”

Derek shrugged. He thought the same but they served their purpose. “They seem to be effective at keeping them under the radar.”

Stiles held up a hand. “That’s a good point; I’ll give you that one. Anyway, I met this professor guy. He told me that the only people who get to meet Alpha have to work for Alpha. I told him that wasn’t going to happen, and then he left. That’s when I got shot. I didn’t see who did that, though. They had to have been hiding.”

“This professor character, was he a tall guy with glasses?” Derek asked. He remembered seeing the man leaving the warehouse before hearing the shots.

“Yes!” Stiles exclaimed. He waved a hand in front of him. Derek figured if he could move he would’ve jumped into the air. “That’s him exactl-” Their conversation was interrupted by a loud ringing. Derek looked over Stiles’ body while Stiles’ craned his neck as much as he could to see.

Erica ducked her head into the room. “Sorry, that’s my phone,” She apologized. “I’ll take this down the hall.”

After she left, Stiles looked back to Derek. “Okay, my question. Who is that babe?”

Derek chuckled softly. “That is Detective Reyes and she can and will kick your ass so I suggest you don’t try anything.”

Stiles pouted. “Fine, then. She’s missing out on some grade A Stiles charm. Her loss.”

Derek smirked. “I’m sure.” He hesitated , one thing niggling at the back of his head. “Hey, Stiles?” He asked. What’s your real name?”

Stiles’ eyes startled for a moment, but then he gave Derek a sad smile. “Stiles is all I am anymore. I lost any right to my old identity.” He looked down towards his wound. “I don’t deserve to be that person anymore.”

That gave him more questions than answers, but Derek didn’t push it. “Okay, you have one more question. Use it wisely.”

“What’s your name?” Stiles asked quietly.

Derek furrowed his brow in confusion. “Did no one tell you?” He inquired. Stiles shook his head. “Well, I’m Detective Derek Hale.” He waited for a flinch or any sign of shock but none came. Stiles just offered him a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you Derek Hale.”

“No relation,” Derek replied meekly. It was half reflex, but the other half wanted to see if Stiles would make the connection at all.

This time, Stiles furrowed his brows. “Relation? To who?”

Before Derek could answer, Erica burst back into the room. “Derek, we have to go. Boyd had Whittemore’s body at the morgue.”

“Already?”

Erica shrugged. “Lydia works fast. I’ll be outside.” She disappeared the way she came.

Derek turned back to Stiles. “I have to go. When you’re released, you’ll be put in protective custody. Until then there will be a uniform at your door at all times.” Stiles nodded so Derek stood up to leave. Stiles caught his wrist.

“Thanks again for saving my life.”

Derek smiled down at him. “Thanks for not dying.”

\-----

Derek and Erica entered the building that housed the morgue to discover that Boyd was already waiting in the hall. Derek looked for Allison, but she was nowhere in sight.

“She’s back at the station with Deaton,” Boyd filled in as if he could read Derek’s thoughts. “I figured it wouldn’t be the best for her to be here right now.”

Derek nodded. “That’s probably for the best.” He wondered how much the two knew about the situation and why it had affected Allison so much. He hesitated before asking, “So, do you guys know?”

. “About Allison and Whittemore?” Erica gave him a small, sad smile. “I told you, no secrets around here.”

Derek looked to Boyd, who just shrugged and nodded. Derek didn’t know what to do with that, but he was relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to explain it to them.

A door behind them opened to reveal a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair. It was same woman Derek saw Boyd talking with on his first day at the department. She stopped in front of Derek and gave him a once over before flashing him a smile. “You must be Detective Hale.”

He instinctively replied, “No relation to-”

The woman cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course not.” She reached out to shake his hand. “Lydia Martin, Medical Examiner.” Her handshake was firm and strong. Laura had always said you could tell a lot about a person from a handshake. He had a feeling Laura would’ve liked Lydia.

She broke off the hand shake and gestured to the door from which she came. “If you would all follow me.”

They trailed behind her as her heels clicked on the linoleum floor. They were higher and thinner than any heels Erica or Allison wore. Derek wondered how she walked in those things, much less got any work done in them. But something told him that not even common physics could defeat Lydia Martin.

Lydia led them to a large metal table with a mass that Derek assumed was Jackson covered in a white sheet. They all crowded around while Derek tried not to think about the fact that he was talking to this person four days ago, and now he was nothing more than a body.

Lydia lifted the sheet back to reveal Jackson’s pale, sunken face. It wasn’t the first dead body Derek had seen, it certainly wouldn’t be the last given his line of work, but it still made him wince.

“What exactly happened?” Erica asked. She leaned closely and wrinkled her nose before stepping back.

“The main cause of death was ventricular tachycardia immediately followed by asystole,” Lydia answered as if she was telling them what she had eaten for dinner.  They must have all worn incredulous looks because she snorted before continuing. “That means his heart beat really fast before it stopped completely. There were also signs of asphyxia.”

“Do you have any idea what caused that?” Boyd asked. He was keeping a farther distance from the body than anyone and he refused to look directly at it.

“According to toxicology, he had about forty-seven milliliters of aconitum in his system. That would’ve taken two hours tops to kill him.”

Derek furrowed his brows. “Aconitum? Like wolf’s bane?”

Lydia nodded. “Wolf’s bane, monkshood, devil’s helmet.” She listed them off , putting a finger up for each name. “Whatever you want to call it. He must have absorbed it through his skin because I saw no signs of vomiting or other gastrointestinal issues.” She frowned. “The only issue is where did he get it?”

“What do you mean?” Erica inquired. She had moved even farther back after the mention of poison being absorbed through skin. She was near the door and looked ready to flee. Derek was sure that if she did, Boyd would be right behind her. Amateurs. Lydia paid her no attention.

“This genus of plant is really only found in the mountains. The only way for Whittemore to have come in contact with any at the prison-”

“If someone intended for him to,” Derek finished. “This was no accident.”

Lydia agreed. “I’m declaring this a homicide.” She sighed as she ripped off her gloves. “I’d feel bad that he was dead,” she said lightly. Then her tone turned darker. “ If he hadn’t been such an asshole to Allison.”

Derek flinched but the others merely nodded. Apparently they were used to Lydia’s threating nature. Derek wasn’t too surprised about that.

“Alright, that’s everything I can tell you for now. You know where the door is.” Lydia gave them a smug smile and gestured towards the door.

Boyd, Erica, and Derek walked out the door and down the hallway. Derek turned to Boyd. “Is she always that,” he looked for the right word, “abrasive?”

Boyd snorted. “Abrasive is a nice way of putting it. She’s the best M.E. in the state so we pretty much let her get away with it.”

This time it was Erica’s turn to snort. “Let her? I’m pretty sure no one ‘lets’ Lydia Martin do anything. She does it whether you like it or not.”

Derek frowned, considering what he had gathered about Lydia in the short time he was in her presence. “I won’t lie. She’s kind of terrifying.” He admitted.

The three of them made it to the parking lot before Derek heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Lydia running towards him. Well, not running so much as quickly floating. The woman could really make anything look graceful.

“Detective Hale!” She stopped in front of him, breathing hard. She put her hands on her hips. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, shoot.” Derek looked down at her. She was very tiny for someone with such a big personality. Maybe she was overcompensating. Probably not.

“How is Allison?” She asked, her face transforming from her tight smile to a look of genuine concern. “Jackson Whittemore might not have been my favorite person, but he mattered to her. How is she handling this?”

Derek swallowed. “She was really upset at first. I haven’t really seen her since then.” He thought for a moment. “Allison’s strong. She’ll get through this.”

Lydia nodded fervently. “Hell yeah, she is.” She poked him in the chest and fixed him a glare. “And if you ever hurt her like he did, I will hunt you down. Believe me, I _know_ how to make it look like an accident.”

“Yeah, of course,” Derek murmured. He most certainly did not flinch when she smoothed the lapels of his suit jacket.

“I’m glad we had this talk, Hale.” She gave him a predatory smile and patted his chest

“Derek.” He choked out. “Call me Derek.”

“Sure. Well it was nice meeting you, _Derek_.” She didn’t wait for his reply before heading back inside.

“You too,” Derek murmured, slightly flabbergasted. He was pretty sure he had just been thoroughly intimidated by the tiniest evil mastermind he’d ever met. He walked over to Erica’s car and slid into the passenger seat. He turned to Erica. “Yep. Definitely terrifying.”

Erica chuckled. “Is the big bad detective afraid of the five-foot-three red head?”

Derek gave her a sidelong glance. “I have a feeling that if she wanted to, Lydia Martin could pull one over on our entire department.”

“I have a feeling you’re right.” Erica smiled. “Thankfully, she’s on our side.”

\-----

The next day wasn’t any less hectic than the previous night. Stiles was still in the hospital. Isaac Lahey had been released on bail; his benefactor had been anonymous but Derek had a feeling McCall was involved. Erica was back from suspension but was stuck on desk duty, much to her dismay. To top it all off, Allison was taking a personal day. All of that meant that Derek was the one who ended up in the middle of a horrendous conversation with Chief Deaton.

“No,” Derek snapped at his boss. “No way.”

The chief was giving him that calm, patient smile again. Derek wanted to punch it, but he somewhat enjoyed his job so he kept that feeling to himself.

Deaton put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “There aren’t any other options, Derek. Normally I would ask Allison, but she isn’t in the right frame of mind as of late. I don’t trust Erica with that type of responsibility-” A disgruntled scoff came from the group of desks behind them. “And Boyd said no. That just leaves you.”

Derek ran a hand over his face. He tried to think of a way to get out of what the Chief was asking, but he couldn’t think of anything. “Can’t you find someone else, Chief? Literally anyone else would be better.” He was actually stooping to whining.

“No one else is close enough to the case. It’s better if one of you keep an eye on him.” Deaton gave Derek’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come on, Detective Hale. You did save his life, remember?”

Derek sighed in defeat. “I’m starting to regret it.” He was glad that Stiles was alive. He just hadn’t known one act of heroics would saddle him with glorified babysitting duty.

“Look, Stiles just needs a place to stay for a little while. Alpha thinks he’s dead and we need to keep it that way.” Deaton was right, Derek knew that much.  “Didn’t you say he could know something? Use that to your advantage,” Deaton suggested.

Derek still wasn’t one hundred percent on board with the Chief’s plan. “After I spoke with him it became clear he wasn’t too involved.” It was a thin excuse but he was desperate. “Besides, what about when I’m working on the case?”

“Then we’ll have uniforms outside the door and the building. You don’t have to watch him, Derek. You just have to be there for him.” Deaton paused before putting the final nail in Derek’s coffin. “Please.”

Just like that, his fate had been handed to him. Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fine, the kid can stay with me.” He schooled his face into the most indifferent scowl he could muster. “But the second this case is out of our hands, he goes home.”

Deaton flashed him a smile, teeth and all. “Thank you. He’s being released in an hour. Until then, I’d like you to go down to tech with Boyd.” He gestured to where Boyd was hovering over Erica’s desk, chuckling softly as she complained about the department’s file backlog. “There’s some videos from the prison I’d like you to review.”

Derek  nodded and muttered a sendoff to the Chief. Then he made his way over to Erica’s desk. Boyd was still leaning against it. He offered a small nod in greeting at Derek.

Erica looked up from her files and sent a smirk his way. “Heard you’re having a sleepover.”

Derek forced a smile on his face. “How’s that paperwork coming, Erica?”

Erica rolled her eyes in a huff and went back to filling out said paperwork. Boyd looked between them with a slight smile, one that was softer when in landed on Erica. Derek wasn’t sure how he and Erica got along so well, but he knew how fond Boyd was of her. The two reminded him of himself and Laura so much sometimes it made his heart ache.

He shut the thought out of his head, remembering he had a task at hand. He nudged at Boyd’s shoulder. “Boyd, you ready to go visit tech?”

Boyd stood up from Erica’s desk and nodded. He pat Erica softly on the shoulder. When she looked up, he grinned. “I’ll be back.”

She flashed him a sweet smile. “Tell Danny that I say hi.”

“Sure thing,” Boyd replied. He squeezed her shoulder and  walked toward the door. He gestured for Derek to follow him. The two set off out of the bullpen and down the lengthy corridor towards the tech center.

Working with Boyd was a lot different than working with Allison. It was quieter, for one. Not that he and Allison had deep lengthy talks about their lives, more like small chit chat about the weather and sports teams. Allison loved the Dodgers.

No, working with Boyd was a peaceful quiet. He didn’t talk much, but he didn’t make the silence awkward enough that it needed to be filled.  Mostly, he just nodded along whenever Derek felt the need to say or ask something.

“So, what are we looking for on the prison videos?” Derek asked, breaking their companionable silence.

Boyd shrugged. “I’m not sure. Danny said it’s important.” He stopped in front of a door at the end of the corridor that read _Mahealani._ With a few solid knocks at the door and a turning of the handle, he stepped inside.  Derek followed close behind.

The room was dark, and the walls were lined with several computers. Each screen was displaying something different. Sitting in a rolling chair at the massive desk in front of them was Danny Mahealani. Derek had learned that previous to his work at the police department, Danny had been a hacker. He’d gotten caught hacking into the high school’s mainframe to change grades for students in exchange for cash. Word is he had put his genius to good work in order to evade jail time. Beacon Hills sure knew how to pick ‘em.

Boyd made quick introductions, gesturing between the others in the room. “Danny, this is Derek. Derek, Danny.”

Danny stood up from his chair and offered his hand to Derek with a smile. “Derek Hale,” he said with an air of awe. He added a reassuring “No relation, I know.”

Derek returned the handshake, chuckling appreciatively. The handshake ended and Derek rubbed his hands together, getting back to business. “So what was it you wanted to show us?”

“Right!” Danny exclaimed excitedly. He ushered Derek and Boyd over to his wall of screens. Pointing to one in the far right corner, he gestured for them to lean forward. “I was reviewing the videos from the block Whittemore’s cell was in. There are several from multiples angles. The prison is surprisingly state of the art when it comes to security.” Danny’s tone was laced with approval. Derek was sure it was very exciting for him. Danny continued on. “This one is from the hallway just outside the cell. Watch.”

Derek and Boyd watched the video with scrutiny. The feed showed the hallway, but nothing else. It was bare of any activity. After a few minutes Finstock walked through, mostly likely making rounds. Then he walked back out and it was still once more. Danny paused the video.

“Did you see that?” He asked them.

Derek squinted at the screen, trying to find what he was apparently missing. He got nothing. “See what?”

Danny moved the video back with his mouse and pointed back at the screen. “There. That’s a time jump.” Sure enough, between the 13th and 14th minute of the video there was a splice in the frames.

“Are you saying the video’s been edited?” Boyd asked. He face was scrunched in concentration. Derek could practically see the wheel’s turning in his head.

“Yep. So have at least three others. Two and half hours is missing from each of them,” Danny explained. “Obviously there was something on these videos that someone didn’t want you to see. And whoever it was knew what they were doing. Someone else might not have noticed the cut in the video at all.” He smiled smugly. “Good thing I’m good at my job.”

Derek ignored the comment in favor of figuring how they should move forward with this new development. He ran a hand through his hair and asked Danny the next logical question. “Is there any way you can recover the missing footage?”

Danny shrugged noncommittally. “I can try. But I’m not making any promises.”

Derek figured that was the best they were going to get so he didn’t push it. “That’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Boyd clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks, man. Erica says hi, by the way.”

Danny smiled fondly as he showed them to the door. “No problem guys. Tell Erica I wish her the best of luck on desk duty.” He hesitated. “Tell Allison I said I’m sorry.”

Derek didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled for a nod. He and Boyd said their goodbyes and stepped into the hallway, Boyd shutting the door behind them. They stood in the corridor for a silent moment, processing the information they had just gathered.

Boyd uncharacteristically broke the silence. “Obviously we’re going to have to go down to the police station,” He pointed out.

Derek knew as much but he had a lot on his plate at the moment. Remembering the task the Chief had bestowed upon him, he checked the time on his phone and grimaced. “Yeah, but we’ll have to do it tomorrow. I have to go pick up Stiles from the hospital.”

“When’s he being released?” Boyd asked.

“About twenty minutes ago,” Derek answered sharply.

Boyd frowned. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. The word basically summed up his life. “I have to go.” Boyd gave him a solute which Derek returned before racing down the corridor.

\-----

When Derek finally arrived at the hospital, Stiles was sitting on his bed, fully dressed in what was left of his clothes from the night he was shot. Stiles gave him a pointed look and crossed his arms across his chest. “You’re late.” He looked and sounded like a berated housewife.

“Sorry, I got caught up at work.” Derek apologized. A part of him was genuinely sorry, but the other part just didn’t Stiles to complain at him. He got enough of that from the women he worked with. “Are you ready to go?”

“I was ready twenty-five minutes ago.” Stiles huffed. But he grinned so he didn’t seem too angry. “The nurse says I have to be escorted out in a wheelchair.”

“Yeah, that’s procedure for all ICU patients,” Derek explained.

“Well, can you call my nurse in here? I’m ready to blow this joint.” Stiles grumbled exasperatedly. He emphasized his words by throwing his hands in the air.

Derek huffed out a breath but went and retrieved the nurse anyway. The nurse was happy to oblige, claiming she was ready to get Stiles out of the hospital and out of her hair. Derek chuckled at that. He gathered Stiles’ things, just a dead phone a few loose items from his pockets, into a plastic bag while the nurse helped Stiles into the wheelchair. Stiles complained that he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but the nurse just smiled and patted his head.

“Of course you are, honey. It’s not like you were shot in the side or anything. Oh, wait.” She turned to Derek and handed him a baggie full of pill bottles. “These are his pain meds. He needs to take two every day, one in the morning and one before bed. He can also take one or two throughout the day if his pain is severe. Do not let him drink while on them. Do not let him abuse them.”

Derek nodded seriously. “Of course, ma’am.”

She seemed satisfied with his answer by the way she smiled at him. She then pushed Stiles in the wheelchair out into the hallway and towards the exit. Derek was hot on her heels, holding Stiles bag of pills in one hand and the bag of Stiles’ belongings in the other. At the exit the nurse gave them a wave before shuffling back into the hospital. Derek pushed Stiles’ wheelchair to the Camaro and Derek helped Stiles into the car. Stiles complained once again about being a big boy that can handle himself, but Derek just ignored him. Once Stiles was situated, Derek walked the wheelchair back into the hospital. He returned to his Camaro and slid into the car himself.

Derek had barely pulled out of the parking lot before Stiles began messing with the radio dials. It reminded Derek of Allison. Except instead of singing along, Stiles would listen for a few seconds, frown, and then change the station. After about six or seven stations, Derek was fed up. He slapped Stiles’ hand away and turned the radio off.

“Hey,” Stiles complained, rubbing his slapped hand with the other. “You can’t be mean to me. I’m on recovery. I was shot, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Derek answered dryly. His sarcasm was dampened by his genuine concern. He furrowed his brows at Stiles. “How are you doing by the way?”

“Aw, the big bad policeman cares.” Stiles batted his surprisingly long eyelashes. Derek offhandedly made note that Stiles had nice eyes.

“Detective.” Derek commented automatically. He softened a little before adding, “And I’m serious. How are you?”

Stiles sighed. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean the doctor mostly cauterized the wound, but it’s still really sore. And I have to be careful of my stitches. But other than that, it wasn’t as serious as they originally thought.”

“So you weren’t going to die?” Derek asked. Just his luck that the one time he was a savior wasn’t actually a life threatening situation after all.

“Not exactly. At first the doctors were worried I’d bleed out, but I guess that wasn’t the case.” Stiles gave him a lopsided grin. “But that doesn’t mean I appreciate your life saving gesture any less.”

Derek felt a small sense of pride at Stiles words. “Good. Just don’t expect it to happen again.”

Stiles’ laughter filled the Camaro. “Yeah, okay big guy. Whatever you say.”

Derek didn’t say anything, just gave Stiles a sidelong glance. He didn’t particularly care for the sarcasm Stiles seemed accustom to. Derek had a feeling that Stiles and Erica would get along. The idea terrified him. Stiles must have taken Derek’s silence as his cue to shut up, because he didn’t speak for the rest of the drive to Derek’s apartment. Derek was grateful because he really had no idea what to say to the kid. He barely knew anything about him other than he was friends with a criminal and had a smartass mouth. That was hardly enough to carry and amicable conversation. Oddly enough, Stiles didn’t seem to mind Derek’s silence. He mostly looked out the window, glancing at Derek every once in a while and smiling that little lazy grin.

They reached Derek’s building and folded out of the Camaro. Stiles insisted he could get out on his own, so Derek didn’t attempt to help him. He then proceeded to bump into a trash can. Derek laughed until he realized that Stiles was clutching his side. Derek rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing Stiles’ arm with one hand and hauling him upright. His other hand was full of Stiles’ various items from the hospital.

Stiles winced, fingers tracing the edges of his wound through his shirt. “Yeah, it just stings a little.”

Derek snorted. Of course it stings, it was a bullet wound and Stiles was treating it like a small scrape. But if Stiles didn’t want any help, Derek was going to give him any. “Try not to damage yourself further on the way up. It’s only two flights of stairs.”

Stiles glared at him. “I told you I can take care of myself,” he snapped. He wrestled himself out of Derek’s grasp, slamming the back of his hand against the railing of the staircase. Derek pointedly stared at him.

“Shut up,” Stiles griped. When Derek smirked at him mockingly, a flush rose up on his cheeks again. Derek looked away before he could watch the color travel to Stiles’ neck again.

Derek led Stiles up the stairway. The rest of the walk up was miraculously painless, and the two finally made it to Derek’s apartment. Once inside, Stiles flopped himself onto the couch without a thought to his injury. He winced in a pain for a moment then grinned up at Derek. 

“So where am I sleeping?” he asked, looking around.

Derek pointed to the couch that Stiles was perched on. “Right there.” He lived in a one bedroom apartment, and the was no way in hell Stiles was sleeping in Derek’s bed. It was sacred.

Stiles was positively offended by the sleeping arrangements. “I’m your guest!” He complained, flailing his arms in the air. “Might I add that I’m recovering from a gunshot wound, and you want me to sleep in your couch?”

Derek nodded sharply. “Yep.” He walked to his own bedroom, ignoring the complaints being spewed from the living room. He shuffled around in his dresser until he found some sweats that were a bit too small for him. Then he made his way over to the closet and searched until he found a faded grey t-shirt.

Satisfied with his findings, he strode back over to the couch and thrust the clothing at Stiles. “Put these on. You’re covered in dry blood and you smell like hospital.”

Stiles inspected the clothes, holding the up to the light by his fingertips. They must have been to his liking because he gave Derek a nod of approval. “Sure, dude. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left.” Derek gestured with his thumb to the narrow hallway. “And don’t call me dude.”

Stiles snickered as he shuffled down the hall. Derek took the opportunity to head into his tiny kitchen in search of some form of food for dinner. He opened the fridge and saw nothing, as usual. He wrinkled his nose. If someone else was staying with him, he would actually have to buy groceries.

Derek heard Stiles clamber loudly back into the living room. “Hey, Derek? Where should I put these?”

Derek moved out of the kitchen to see that Stiles had thrown his dirty clothes on the floor and was now raiding Derek’s entertainment center. Derek huffed in annoyance and picked the clothes up with his fingertips. “These go in the hamper in the bathroom. That you were just in.”

Stiles didn’t respond. He just continued opening each entertainment center drawer, frowning at the contents, and closing them. Eventually, he blew out a breath and sat back on the couch. He rubbed a hand over his head. “I can’t stay here,” He said seriously.

“Why not?” Derek asked, still holding the offensive clothing at arm’s length.

“You don’t have any kind of gaming system. That’s just unacceptable.” Stiles gravely shook his head back and forth.

Derek rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement. He didn’t say anything, just took Stiles’ bloody clothes to the hamper. He walked back through the living room on the way to his bedroom. Stiles was laughing with the remote in his hand, flipping through channels.

Derek stepped into his room and shut the door behind him, muffling the sounds coming from the television and Stiles. He removed his gun and holster and placed in the top drawer of his nightstand. Then he made quick work of removing his suit and tie, throwing them on the floor. His boxers found their way to the floor as well. It was his house and he didn’t have to use the hamper if he didn’t want to.  Normally he would sleep naked but he figured that would be a problem seeing as he had a guest, so he found a pair of sweats that actual fit him and slipped them on. Then he swung open his door and ventured back out into the living room.

“Your cable package is pretty impressive,” Stiles said as a way of greeting. “I guess I could make this work.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Derek sighed and planted himself on the couch next to Stiles. He sprawled out as much as he could without any bodily contact. “Glad to know where your priorities stand.”

Stiles chuckled. He pointed to Derek with the hand not currently holding the remote, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You’re not the one who’s going to be stuck here for days, unable to leave.”

“No, but I do live here,” Derek reminded him. It was pointless. Stiles wasn’t listening anymore. He was intently watching some show about teens that turn into werewolves and have feelings. Derek tried to hold in a laugh but it came out as a snort. “Really, Stiles? Werewolves?”

Stiles turned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey! This show is actually really good”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Sure it is. Now, what do you want for dinner?” He asked

Stiles didn’t answer. He was staring blankly, his eyes trained on Derek’s bare chest.  Derek felt his face flush without his consent. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. He knew how fit he was. People at the gym stared all the time. But this was different. It was _Stiles_ , some kid he barely knew and was currently rooming with.

Derek waved a hand in front of Stiles’ face. “Stiles? We’re ordering in. What do you want?”

“What?” Stiles said dumbly. Finally he snapped out of his daze, looking up at Derek’s face. He turned away and seemed to seriously ponder the question. “Pizza sounds good.”

Derek called the place around the corner and ordered two pizzas, one pepperoni for himself and a Hawaiian for Stiles. He let Stiles pull him into a marathon about the teen wolves while they waited. Derek had to admit it was pretty good even if it was more dramatic than his liking. He thought the passionate main couple was annoying. He told Stiles so as they ate their pizza at the small dining table. Apparently that was permission for Stiles to full on rant about his feelings about all the couples on the show. Derek patiently listened and tried not to rolls his eyes too much.

Eventually, Derek looked up at the clock and saw that the time had passed quickly and it had become extremely late. He had to be up for work in less than six hours. “Shit,” he hissed. “I have to go to bed.”

Stiles flashed him a sleepy grin from across the table. “Okay,” He replied as he got up and made his way to the couch. Derek stood up as well, not bothering to clean up the mess they had made with the pizza. He was suddenly far too tired to do much of anything.

Derek tossed Stiles a blanket from the hallway closet and headed for his bedroom. At the door, he turned back around. A thought had been picking at his brain all night and he had to voice it. “Hey, Stiles, can I ask you a question?”

Stiles craned his around the back of the couch. “Sure, of course.”

“After everything that happened, everything you’ve been through. You seem so-” Derek swallowed, “okay. How are you not unhappy?”

Stiles smiled fondly at him. “Derek, my friend, life is too short to worry about things you can't control.”

Derek nodded, not sure if he was satisfied with the answer but knowing it was all he was going to get. And he was so tired. “Night, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek.”

\-----

Derek spent his morning reminding himself that he shared his space with another person. He tried not to use all the hot water in the shower. He was careful to be quiet while moving around the living room where Stiles was asleep. Not that that was difficult for Derek, he wasn’t exactly a loud individual, but he focused especially hard not to slam anything around and wake Stiles up.  He even made sure to read the note that Stiles left asking for food from his favorite take out place for dinner.

After finishing his morning routine, he slipped out the door and checked for the uniform that was posted in the hall. The officer that arrived, Greenburg, wasn’t much. But he was a good cop so Derek felt comfortable enough to head to work.

 Derek arrived at the police department a little later than normal thanks to the wrench in his usual schedule. No one seemed to mind. In fact, upon entering the bullpen, he was greeted with the warm smile of his partner, who was standing next to her desk. Allison was back from her “mental health day” as they were calling it. And she already looked much better than the last time he saw her. He flashed her a small smile and patted her on the shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back, Allison.”

Allison rolled her eyes and pulled him in for a hug. She wrapped her slender arms around his waist and squeezed. Derek didn’t respond at first, but after a few seconds he melted into it and wrapped his arms around her back. From behind them someone cleared their throat.

Allison and Derek broke apart to see that Erica and Boyd had migrated to the desk cluster. Erica was pouting. “How come I never get a hug like that?” She whined.

Boyd ignored her and spoke to Derek. “I filled Erica and Allison in on what Danny told us yesterday. I figured we should review what we know on the case and formulate a plan from there. I already laid everything out in the conference room.”

Derek nodded, thankful Boyd had taken the initiative. His own brain was still processing everything they had learned the previous day. “Okay, after that we can head down to the prison. We have a few unanswered questions that need to be dealt with.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement. Boyd ushered everyone toward the conference room. He and Erica headed inside but Allison grabbed Derek by the arm, holding him back in the hall.

“I heard you’re housing Stiles for the time being.” She spoke lowly as to not draw unwanted attention. “How did it go last night?” Her demeanor was calm but her eyes lit up with curiosity.

Derek shrugged. “It was fine. He’s an okay kid, other than his uncanny ability to purposely be annoying. Also, he made me watch a horrendous show about werewolves for five hours straight.” It had really only been a few episodes. And he kind of liked it. But that wasn’t information he needed spread around the office.

Allison gave him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the arm.

Erica poke her head around the door laughed in his face. “You know that it’s your place, right? You have all rights to what you guys watch.”

“The kid really wanted to watch it,” Derek grumbled stepping around her and following Allison into the conference room. He fumbled with excuses in his head. “Besides, he was just shot.” It was weak but it was something.

Boyd looked up from where he was leaning over some papers at the head of the conference table and snorted. “You sound whipped,” He stated bluntly.

Erica laughed even harder at that. Derek frowned hard. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks and tried to will it away, all but praying for a change of subject. Luckily, Allison came to his rescue.

“Guy, can we please get back to the task at hand. We do have a drug lord to take out, you know.” She glared at Boyd and Erica. The two froze under her icy stare.

“You’re right”. Boyd said with a nod. He offered a sincere “Sorry, Derek” then turned to look at Erica, who just stood there staring. He elbowed her in the ribs.

“Alright!” She yipped. She offered a grumpy “Sorry, Derek” as she rubbed at her ribcage.

Derek smiled smugly, looking between Allison and their colleagues. “It’s fine.” He tapped a hand on the conference table, bring everyone back to business. “Let’s go over Whittemore’s statement first.”

Erica picked up a file from the pile in front of Boyd. “Whittemore said it all comes back to Scott. Before I would have found that hard to believe, but now I’m not so sure.”

Derek made a motion with his hand for her to elaborate on that.

Erica gathered her thoughts for a moment before continuing. “Well before, Scott was just a menial drug dealer. Then he was a high end pusher. Now he’s bailing other pushers out of jail? That’s quite the escalation of rank.”

“We don’t know for a fact that it was him who bailed Lahey out.” Boyd pointed out.

“Don’t we, though?” Allison interjected, throwing herself into a seat at the table. The others followed suit. “I mean, Lahey doesn’t exactly have a vast social circle. No family or friends that we know of. The only people who could have done it-”

“Are Scott and Alpha,” Derek finished. “Or both. Chances were that Scott got the money from Alpha, which is even stronger evidence of a connection between them.”

 “Okay, if Jackson was right, that’s probably what got him killed.” Alison surmised. She stared off and fiddled with her necklace. There was a brief moment of tense silence, no one sure what to say next.

Then Boyd cleared his throat. “But who killed him?” he asked quietly. “He was in maximum security prison in a single cell.”

“Not to mention, someone cut the security feeds.” Derek reminded them. “That screams inside job.”

“Jackson was afraid to talk,” Allison said suddenly. She looked to Derek. “Remember, he said there would be heat on him if he did.”

“Do you think Peter is involved?” Derek asked. He didn’t know much about the previous leader, but it sounded like something he would pull. At least he thought it did.

Allison sharply shook her head. “Not possible. He’s in solitary for twenty-three hours a day.”

Erica chimed in. “It sounds like maybe someone in the prison staff is involved. Who else would have access to a prisoner’s cell and the security feed?”

Derek thought it over. “I think we need to have a talk with Officer Finstock. Erica, can you and Allison go down and review the videos with Danny? Boyd and I are going to head down to the prison.”

Erica nodded and moved to get up from her chair but Allison held her back. “Why am I not going with you?” She fixed Derek a glare, more curious than angry.

“Because after your blow up last time, there is no way he would tell you anything. Especially if he was involved.” Derek explained gently. They couldn’t afford to lose any information. “Besides, Boyd’s big and looks scary.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Boyd smiled smugly. He stood and moved for the door.

Erica wrestled herself out of Allison’s grasp and trailed behind Boyd. “Yeah, right Boyd. WE all know you’re a big teddy bear.” She poked him in the side teasingly.

Derek rolled his eyes at what was clearly their version of flirting. How ironic considering their team’s current situation.  “Whatever. We’ll meet back here in a few hours and decide what to do about the Scott situation.”

\-----

The security office of Beacon Hills Correctional Facility was dark, cramped, and dusty. Not that Officer Finstock seemed to notice. He just sat at his desk, munching his cheese doodles. The look on his face was probably meant to look menacing, but it really looked like he smelled something offensive.

“What can I do for you boys?” Finstock asked, orange crumbs flying from his mouth.

Derek wrinkled his nose in disgust. “We wanted to ask you about the security feed. Who exactly has access to it?”

Finstock snorted. “How the hell should I know? People come and go through this office all the time. I can’t keep track.”

“You’re the head of Correction, isn’t it your job to keep track?” Boyd pointed out.

Finstock sat up straight. He glared at Boyd. “Listen kid. I’m extremely busy, trying to keep order in this damn place. Don’t tell me what my job is.”

Derek felt anger bubble up inside him. He wasn’t sure Finstock’s attitude was an evasion tactic, or if the guys was really that dense. Either way they didn’t have time for it. g. “Don’t you get it? A man was killed here. And not from a makeshift knife at the hands of a rival gang. He was poisoned and he died and no one even noticed. This is extremely serious and the only lead we have is these security videos.” He slammed his hands against the desk.  “But you know what? Someone tampered with them, so until we found out who did that, we essentially have nothing! Do you want to be blamed for ruining our entire case?”

Finstock swallowed thickly and slumped back in his chair. His voice was shaky when he spoke. “Alright, alright. There’s about three people who have access to the security feed, myself included, but only one person really knows how to handle them. Matt Daehler. He’s the one you want to talk to.”

Boyd pulled out a notepad, nodding along as he wrote the information down. “Okay, can you tell us where he is?”

“That’s the problem,” Finstock grumbled. He ran a cheesy hand through his hair, unaware of the mess he made. Or he didn’t care. Derek suspected the latter.

“What do you mean?” Derek urged.

Finstock wrung his hands together in front of him. “Daehler hasn’t shown up to work in two days.”

Derek ran a hand over his face. Shit.” Another setback was the exact opposite of what they needed. He took a deep breath. “Do you know where he lives?”

Finstock lifted out of his chair and moved over to a file cabinet. He pulled the top drawer open and papers spilled out. After fumbling for a minute or so, he pulled out a slim file. “Here we go. My entire file on Matt Daehler. It’s not much. But it’s something, right? It’s helpful?”

Derek opened his mouth to speak to tell him exactly how helpful the conversation had been but Boyd cut him off. “Thank you for your time, Officer Finstock,” he said calmly. He grabbed the file from Finstock’s hand and dragged Derek out the door.

Back in the car, Boyd thumbed through the file quietly while Derek drove.

“What does it say?” Derek asked, trying to peak while maintaining an eye on the road.

“Not much. He hasn’t been in security for long, just over a year. He has no family contact, not even an emergency one,” Boyd replied.

“Where does it say he lives?”

“He lives in that run down complex off 95th.” Boyd pointed to a piece of paper. “The one behind the coin operated laundromat.”

The street number itched at something in the back of Derek’s brain. He didn’t know where it was exactly, but it stuck out to him. “That sounds really familiar,” he told Boyd.

“It does,” Boyd agreed. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to the station.” He tapped a finger against his chin. “We should get a warrant for Daehler’s place while we’re at it.”

Derek hummed in agreement as he pulled into the station parking lot. Killing the engine, he turned to Boyd. “You get the girls in the conference room. I’ll go ask Deaton about a warrant.”

Boyd get him a salute and stepped out of the car. Derek copied the move, wondering when saluting became their thing. He shook the thought as they headed into the building.

Derek headed straight for Deaton’s office in the back. He knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an invitation in. Deaton was sitting at his desk as per usual. The calm smile Derek was used to had been replaced by one of firm concentration as he seemed to be filling out paperwork. He looked up at the sound of Derek entering. “Can I help you, Detective?”

“We might have found a lead on the Whittemore case, sir.” Derek began. He filled the chief in on the new information that they had gathered at the prison. Actually, he complained about the lack of information they had gathered. When he reached the end, Deaton simply nodded. The calm smile had settled back on his face. Honestly, it put Derek at ease.

“So you need a warrant to search this Daehler character’s apartment?” Deaton asked. He continued before Derek could answer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Derek said his thanks and left the office. He made a beeline for the conference room, glad to see everyone was already waiting inside. Allison and Boyd were sitting at the table facing the projector screen, which Erica was currently perched next to.

 “Danny recovered the footage that was cut from the security feed,” Erica began as Derek walked into the room. “It’s really something you should see.” She pulled the feed up on the projector screen. Derek settled into the seat next to Allison and watched the video unfold.

 It started the same as before, nothing happening in the prison hallway other than Finstock walking through. However when it reached the point that had been edited, the feed continued. It showed a younger man in a leather jacket look around the hall before walking into Jackson’s cell. A few minutes later, he exited and walked back out of frame the way he had come in.

“Wait, rewind that,” Boyd said. He hauled himself up and moved to stand in front of the projector. Erica rewound until Boyd said to stop. The video paused on a grainy shot the young man. Part of his face was showing. “That’s him!” Boyd blurted, pointing at the face. “That’s the guy who works the security feed for the prison.”

“Are you sure?” Allison asked. She came around behind him to get a better look. “You can barely see his face.”

Boyd shuffled a pile of papers on the table pulled out the file they retrieved from Finstock. He flipped through it and held up a single sheet of paper. On it was a picture of a young man that looked very similar to the one on the screen.

Erica folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, what do we know about this guy?”

“We know his name is Matt Daehler, he has worked at the prison for about a year, and he lives in the gross apartments on 95th,” Boyd explained.

“Do either of you know anything about that place?” Derek asked out loud, looking from Erica to Allison. “It sounded really familiar.”

Allison merely shrugged but Erica’s eyes went wide. “Read me the address.” She commanded. Boyd rattled it off to her. Her mouth dropped open briefly before she expressed. “That’s where Isaac Lahey used to live.”

“What?” Allison and Derek yelled at the same time. Derek found himself jumping up from his seat and moving over to the others quickly. He stared at Erica unflinching until she filled them in.

“He hasn’t lived there in a while. A few months maybe,” Erica explained. “He didn’t move out until after he was higher in rank.”

“There is no way this is a coincidence,” Boyd huffed. He rubbed a hand over his head. The others mumbled various forms of agreement.

“We should go to Daehler’s place right now,” Allison suggested. She was nervously playing with her necklace again.

“We can’t. Boyd reasoned. “Not until we get a warrant,”  He squeezed her shoulder gently but she just frowned at the floor.

Derek ran a hand through his hair. “Deaton’s working on getting us one. It probably won’t come through until tomorrow.” It was for the best. They all needed to handle the situation with a clear head. Something Allison didn’t seem to have at the moment.

“But-” Allison began firmly, ready to put up a fight Erica cut her off.

“Allison, we can’t. Anything we find won’t be admissible.” She gave Allison an empathetic smile. It was the kind of smile that made Derek’s stomach turn. One that was laced with pity. Derek had been on the receiving end of those smile too many times.

“I know.” Allison sighed in defeat. She quickly left the room before the others could comment further.

Derek waited until she was gone to blow out the breath he had been holding. He turned to Boyd and Erica. “Let’s just pick this up tomorrow.”

The two needed in agreement, neither willing to offer comment despite obviously wanting to. Derek filed out of the conference room, happy that the work day was over. He was ready to go home and veg out on his couch.

Or at least that was the plan until he remembered that he had a witness in protective custody crashing in his living room.

Fuck his life.

\-----

Derek entered his apartment to find Stiles lounging on the couch as if he hadn’t moved all day. His eyes were once again fixated on the television in front of him. This time it was playing some show about high school problems. Derek didn’t have the energy to make fun of Stiles’ television tastes so he kept his mouth shut. Stiles  looked up and offered a smile as Derek entered the room.

“Hey, man! How’s it going?” He asked, waving with the remote still in his hand.

“Fine,” Derek mumbled. He thrust a Styrofoam package into Stiles’ hand. He set his own on the coffee table and shrugged off his suit jacket, placing it on the back of the couch.

“Kung Pao Chicken and Mongolian noodles! How did you know?” Stiles gave him a fond smile as if Derek had just made his entire day.

Derek glared. “I know because you left me a note on the counter this morning that said ‘Please bring home Kung Pao and Mongolian noodles’,” he snapped. He was starting to get  a migraine and Stiles’ good mood was only making it worse. He slumped himself against the part of the couch that stiles wasn’t currently sprawled out on and picked up his food.

Stiles laughed, completely unphased by Derek’s attitude. “Well it’s good to know you can read.” He took a big bite of his noodles. “So how was work? Did you find anything out on Alpha today?” He asked around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Derek reprimanded. He twirled some noodles onto his chopsticks. “And I can’t tell you anything about the case.”

 Stiles pouted, tapping his chopsticks together. “Why not? I’m a part of the case aren’t I?”

Derek contemplated that as he chewed. Swallowing, he said “I guess. I’m still not telling you anything.”

Stiles huffed but didn’t respond, focusing his attention on his meal. They ate in silence for a while, save for the sounds of the whiny girls coming from the television. Apparently they had a mystery to solve.

 Eventually Derek’s migraine went away enough that he wasn’t in a completely foul mood. He figured that because Stiles had taken the time to ask about Derek’s day, he should probably return the niceties. He mustered up the most relaxing voice he could manage.

“What did you do today?” he asked between bites of his Mandarin  
chicken.

Stiles looked up at him, mouth hanging slightly open. Then he scoffed. “Oh no. You didn’t tell me about your day. I tried to be nice and ask you and you shut me down hard. Why should I tell you about mine, huh?”

Derek shrugged and went back to eating. He didn’t really care what Stiles had done. It was probably something vaguely annoying that he was better off not knowing about anyway.

“Okay, okay. You wore me down,” Stiles said dramatically. He heaved an overdrawn sigh before continuing. “Mostly I sat here and watched TV. I went through your kitchen, didn’t find much. You should really go grocery shopping. Oh, and I found your chess set, so I invited Greenberg in and we played that for a while.”

Derek’s head snapped up. “You invited Greenberg in? _Officer_ Greenberg?”

Stiles shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah. I was bored and he was just standing outside the door so I figured, why not?”

Derek set his food down and turned his whole body toward Stiles. He was barely containing his rage. Stiles couldn’t just let people in to the apartment. “You can’t just _let people in_ , Stiles!”

“It’s just Greenberg. I mean he’s one of the good guys, right?” Stiles furrowed his brows, obviously confused as to why Derek was mad. Was he really that naïve?

Derek ran a hand over his face and willed himself to be calm. “Yes, he is. But I’m just saying you never know who you can trust.”

Stiles seemed to consider that before asking, “Can I trust you?” His eyes were so open and earnest, like it was really important to him. Derek supposed it was him, him staying at Derek’s apartment and all.

Derek hesitated. He wasn’t exactly big on trust himself; he didn’t really trust anyone really. But he knew he would never do something to put a civilian in jeopardy. He had no reason why Stiles _shouldn’t_ trust him. “Of course you can,” He said seriously. The weight of his words were almost too much so he added a light “I did save your life, you know.”

“That’s technically true.” Stiles smiled. “So I can only play games with you then?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Derek suggestively. Derek thought is it was more ridiculous than sexy.

Though it was a little sexy. Not the move, but Stiles’ face and- Derek shut that thought down fast. The last thing he need was to add sexual frustration to his list of reasons his life sucks. Besides it would break so many rules and-and. Stiles was annoying. Yeah. Very annoying. And he had terrible taste in television and movies and he drooled on the couch. Derek held onto those thoughts to put his mind at ease.

He groaned and took a bite his noodles. “Shut up Stiles.” Stiles snickered, clearly pleased with himself.

They continued their meal in silence again, television still buzzing in the background. Once they were finished Derek deposited their Styrofoam in the trash. After, he headed to his bedroom and threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. That’s when it dawned on him.

Stiles didn’t have any clothes. Or toiletries. Or anything. 

He hustled back to the living room where Stiles was sitting on his knees on the floor, looking through Derek’s DVD collection again. “Hey,” he began, shuffling from foot to foot. “Do you need anything?”

Stiles craned his neck around and gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Clothes, a toothbrush, floss,” Derek listed off. “Anything like that.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I probably should have asked you that when you came here. Sorry about that.”

Stiles dropped himself back onto the couch and smiled. “Hey dude, it’s cool. I could use some clothes though. Preferably underwear, maybe some deodorant-”

Derek cut him off. “Just- hold on a second.” He moved to the kitchen and searched around until he found a paper and pen. He thrust them at Stiles. “Make a list. I’ll go pick you up whatever you need.”

Stiles tilted his head, thinking. He wrote a few things down the stopped abruptly. “Aren’t you not supposed to leave me alone?” he asked.

Derek blew out a breath in annoyance. Stiles was right. There was a squad car across the street, but he’d already relieved Greenberg, and he didn’t trust anyone else enough to look after Stiles. He thought for a moment until a plan came to him. “Okay, I have an idea. Just make the list and I’ll call my partner and ask her to pick the stuff up.”

“That hot chick from the hospital?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows were doing that suggestive wiggle again..

“No,” Derek snapped. He really wished Stiles would control his face. It was causing him problems. “Just make your stupid list.”

After Stiles finally finished his list-Derek thought was way longer than necessary but didn’t say anything-Derek called Allison and practically begged for her help. He didn’t have to grovel too much though. He was lucky that Allison had a soft spot for helping people. She agreed wholeheartedly and told Derek to give her a couple hours.

Derek hung up the phone and turned back to Stiles. “She’ll be here in an hour or so.”

“Cool.” Stiles clapped his hands together. “So, what do you want to do now?”

Derek looked around his apartment. There wasn’t much of anything other than his furniture, his entertainment center, and his chess set. The only reason he still had that was because it had belonged to his father. Everything else he’d sold or gotten rid of before the move. He never had guests so he never worried about having to _entertain guests_.

“I’m sure you can entertain yourself,” He grumbled.

Stiles looked gravely serious while he said “I already did that twice today.”  He broke at the end of the sentence, his face splitting into a grin. A belly laugh erupted into the living room.

Derek groaned internally. He rubbed a hand over his hair and willed himself from creating a mental image. “Thank you so much for the overshare.”

Stiles waved off the comment,  changing the subject back around again “Come on man, there’s got to be something we could do around here.” He popped up off the couch and began looking around for anything that could qualify as a “something to do.”

“Well, apparently the only source of entertainment I can provide for you is my television and that chessboard.” Derek huffed. He was a narcotics detective, not an activities coordinator.

“What about that bottle you have in the cabinet to the right of the sink?” Stiles asked. He shrugged his shoulders and attempted to look casual. It only exaggerated his eagerness.

“What?” Derek asked, a little perplexed. He looked from the kitchen to Stiles. “Did you go through my kitchen cabinets?”

Stiles put his hands up in front of him. “Don’t be mad. I just wanted to find a snack and didn’t know where to look,” he spoke in a rush. Derek just shot him a murderous glare. He continued on, a little softer. “But like I said, you don’t really have much.”

“I haven’t had time to settle in yet!” Derek snapped. He didn’t know why, but Stiles criticizing his living habits was really bothering him. It’s not like he had to explain himself to Stiles. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Stiles took a step backward toward the couch. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He sighed in defeat. “Just forget I said anything.”

Derek didn’t answer. He just stomped into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels that he kept for when he felt like wallowing. He opened the cabinet above the oven and grabbed two shot glasses. Then he stomped back over to the living room and shoved a shot glass at Stiles.

Stiles looked surprised but took it willingly. “Are we really going to do this?”

Derek angrily poured them both a shot. “Just drink.” Stiles’ comments felt like a challenge, and Derek was never one to back down from a challenge. After they took that shot Derek quickly poured two more.

Shot after shot they drank. At first Derek was doing it to prove some sort of point he wasn’t really clear on. Stiles probably hadn’t even meant to be critical of Derek’s living situation. But it mattered to Derek. For some reason, Stiles’ opinion of him was important.  After a while and six shots of whiskey, he stopped asking himself why.

By the time the bottle was half empty and forgotten on the kitchen table, they were both lethargically slumped on the couch. Stiles was rambling on about the time he fell in love at the supermarket. Some redhead- well more strawberry blonde according to Stiles- had bumped into him, glared daggers like it was his fault, then made him carry her groceries to her car. He’d never seen her again. Derek thought the woman sounded suspiciously similar to one Lydia Martin.

He didn’t interrupt Stiles’ rant, just lobbed his head along in some limp form of a nod. Eventually he stopped listening to Stiles’ words completely, opting to follow the melody of his voice. It was out of rhythm, off pitch, and incredibly addicting.

Derek leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. He was warm, and a little fuzzy around the edges. It was the closest to content he’d felt in a long time.

“Hey. Derek,” Stiles slurred. “Hey.” He prodded at Derek’s chest with his lax hand.

“Hmm?” Derek hummed. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.

“I think someone’s at the door,” Stiles was whispering. Or attempting to whisper seeing as it was still relatively loud. “Should we be scared?”

Derek’s eyes shot open. He turned his head toward the door, where someone was pounding a steady knock.  He looked back at Stiles, who was gazing at the door with a look of fear and confusion. He looked like a lost little puppy. Something he probably picked up from McCall.

“Don’t worry.” Derek pat Stiles on the shoulder then used it as leverage to propel himself from the couch. “’S just Allison.” He’d almost forgotten that she was coming. And she would probably be unhappy with his decision to liquor up their witness. He couldn’t muster up the strength to care.

Instead he stumbled his way to the door and threw it open with a lax smile.

In the hall, Allison stood with her arms full of bags. She had a smile on her face, but when she took in Derek’s current state, he mouth dropped to a frown.

“Really, Derek?” Derek couldn’t do much other than shrug. Allison just shook her head and sighed. “Well, are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, sorry,” Derek mumbled. He moved over to allow Allison entrance to the apartment.

She stepped in and surveyed the living room. Her eyes swept around until they settled on Stiles. She gave him one of her patented smiles. “Hi. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Allison.”

Stiles shot her a lax grin of his own and gestured to himself loosely. “Stiles.”

“It’s nice to formally meet you, Stiles.” She shuffled the things in her arms, throwing an unsubtle glare at Derek.

He shuffled over to her and quickly took the bags from her hands, depositing them on the couch. Some items spilled out, toothbrushes and socks splayed on the floor. Stiles started to pick through the bags. He fished out a thermal pajama set and gave it an approving nod. Then he reached for a pair of underwear. Seemingly satisfied, he launched himself off the couch.

“I’m going to head to the baño and throw these on.” He informed them. He gestured in the direction of bathroom and tumbled toward it. Stiles giggled to himself from down the half. “Baño.” He laughed again as if it was the world’s funniest word.

Once Stiles was safely inside the bathroom, Allison whirled around to Derek. “You thought getting him drunk was a good idea?” She was a lot angrier than she had let on.

Derek blinked at her, unsure of what to do. “It’s not a big deal.”

Allison fixed him a glare that meant she thought he was an idiot. She’d been hanging around Lydia too much. “You do realize that he’s on pain medication right?”

Derek sobered a little at that realization. He ran a hand over his face. “Shit. I didn’t think about that.” He _was_ an idiot.

Allison’s anger abated. With a sigh, she crossed her arms.  “Have you been making sure he takes his medications?”

Derek grimaced. “Not exactly. But I’m sure he’s handling it.”

“Derek, you’re supposed to be looking out for him. You can’t just leave him to his own devices.” She uncrossed her arms again and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to take over? He can come stay at my place-”

Derek cut her off. “No, no. I can do it.” He sighed. He was usually much better than this. Well actually he wasn’t. “I’ll be better, I just need to pay more attention.”

Allison nodded and took a step back. She grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. “Alright, well if you have this situation under control. I’m going to go. Call me if you need anything else.” She slipped into the hallway.  “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

Derek smiled at her, seriously grateful for her existence. “Yeah. Thank you, by the way. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” She pointed her finger at him. “And no more drinking.” She said it sternly but she was smiling.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a half assed version of the salute he learned from Boyd.

Allison winked at him and set off down the hallway. Derek closed the door and turned back to the living room. He collapsed into the empty space on the couch, surrounding himself in the crinkling plastic of the shopping bags.

Stiles exited the bathroom, freshly changed into his new pajamas.  His face was still red from the alcohol, but he was walking straighter so he was at least a little more sober. He looked round the living room and frowned. “Where’s Allison?”

“She left,” Derek answered, slumping his head against the arm of the couch. “She had to get back home.”

“Oh.” Stiles replied, sounding disappointed but shrugging it off. He pushed some things around on the couch until he made a space big enough for him to plop down into. He lolled his head toward Derek. “So, are you hitting that?”

Derek blinked a few times, registering what he was just asked. “What? No. Most certainly not.” Allison would probably most definitely kick his ass for even considering looking at her that way.

Stiles pondered for a second. “Are you gay?”

Derek shot up from his comfortable position. Plastics bags spilled onto the floor around him. “Excuse me?” he asked. He could feel his cheeks heating up and he couldn’t blame it on the alcohol anymore.

“Well, you work some seriously hot chicks,” Stiles said. “But you don’t seem attracted to any of them.” He threw his hands up in front of him. “Not that I’m judging. I’m more of equal opportunity kind of guy myself.”

Derek stared, unsure of what to say to any of that information. He swallowed before going for the safest response. “You do realize how completely unprofessional it would be for me to pursue anyone at work.”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess, but that doesn’t stop it from happening.”

“Whatever. But I’m not hooking up with anyone I work with,” Derek huffed. He witnessed the dangers of getting involved with coworkers and didn’t want any part of that.  Especially if his own partner’s experience was anything to go by. “Be it a man or woman.”

“You said hooking up,” Stiles snickered until he caught up with what Derek had said. “Wait what was that last part?”

Derek rubbed a hand over of his face. He didn’t like where this was going. Well he shouldn’t anyway. “It’s like what you said. Equal opportunity or whatever.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. Luckily he didn’t wiggle them again. He probably couldn’t in his current state. “Really? Well in that case-”

“No.” Derek cut him off.  They were most definitely not having this conversation. Not when Derek was drunk and might say things about Stiles’ face or mouth. Not ever actually. He rose up from the couch and didn’t look Stiles in the eye.

“Yeah, yeah. Professional.” Stiles mumbled. He slumped into the space Derek vacated, looking oddly comfortable for being strewn around various shopping bags.

Derek didn’t respond, just chuckled. He turned off the living room light and headed for his bedroom. “I’m going to sleep this alcohol off. Are you going to be okay out here?”

Stiles grunted in response, so Derek took that as a good sign.

\-----

Allison pulled the car up to the curb on 95th street and parked in front of a rather rundown apartment building. She and Derek exited their vehicle and waited on the sidewalk, looking as inconspicuous as two police detectives with deadly weapons could. They watched as Erica and Boyd pulled up and parked behind them.  

“Okay, everyone ready?” Derek asked once everyone was in front of the building. They all nodded and mumbled an agreement. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

It was Allison that led the group up the stairs of Daehler’s building. She had a look of determination, cold calculation, and pure bloodlust that Derek hoped to never be on the receiving end of.

Once they reached Daehler’s apartment, Derek stepped in front of her. She glowered at him but conceded. They needed to keep this situation under control and the last thing they needed was a hot headed Allison flying off the handle. He pounded against the door. “Beacon Hills Police.” There was no response. “Mr. Daehler, please open the door. We have a warrant.”

There was still no answer. There was only one thing they could do if that happened. Derek turned back to the others, giving them a short nod. All at once, they drew their weapons. Derek tried one last time to garner a response but none came. He gestured for everyone to take a step back and prepared for one of his secret favorite parts of the job.

He kicked the door in. It blew back on its hinges as he rushed into the apartment, the others hot on his heels. Everyone scattered throughout the place, guns at the ready. Erica stalked towards the kitchen. Allison headed for the bedroom. Derek surveyed the living room, while Boyd checked the bathroom.

From what Derek saw, something serious had taken place. The couch was overturned, pillows ripped open. There were papers and magazine scattered around the floor. Everything in his sight was either broken or displaced. He looked around doing his best not to touch anything. Someone had to come and compile evidence of whatever struggle had happened and it wasn’t going to be him.

“I’m calling Crime Scene,” He called out the others. He placed the call, telling one of the techs that they were needed urgently, and hung up without waiting for a response. Then a wave of disgusting odor washed over him.

“What the fuck is that smell?” He heard Erica call from the kitchen, eloquent as always.

“I think I know what it is,” Boyd responded from the bathroom. “You guys need to come in here. And someone should probably call Lydia”

Derek hustled to the bathroom, the girls hot on his heels. The closer he got to the bathroom the worse the stench became. Once he peered in through the door, he knew why.

Inside the bathtub was the bloated, face down body of a man. He had one hand resting against the edge of the tub, smeared with blood. Blood was coating the toilet and splashed against the sink and mirror. The bloody water was overflowing, dripping onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Derek cursed.  He stepped further into the bathroom so he could get a closer look. It looked like they found their prime suspect. “I’m pretty sure that’s Matt Daehler,” he informed the others. The smell become overpowering and he covered his mouth with his sleeve.

Allison . “I’ll go call Lydia.” She hastened to make her exit, backing out of the bathroom and back down the hall. Erica mumbled something about the “the fucking smell” and stepped out as well. Derek opted to stay and willed himself to remember that smell was the weakest of the senses. Eventually the strong smell abated and the urge to gag disappeared. Thank you DR. Reid.

Boyd was leaning over the sink, surveying the blood.  He was careful not to touch anything, not that anyone would want to. “I think it goes without saying that there was a struggle,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“You think?” Derek deadpanned. He crouched on his haunches and looked closely at the back of Daehler’s head. There was dried blood in his hair. It would still be pretty wet if the hit had been recent. “He has to have been here for at least a couple of days.”

Boyd crouched behind him. “Is that a head wound?” He pointed past the dried blood to a dent in the cranium. It was a severe gash; enough to most definitely kill a man.

“Looks like it.” Derek stood up. He didn’t really want to be in the room anymore. “I’m going to look around and see if I can locate the object that was used.”

He left Boyd in the bathroom and moved to the living room. Erica and Allison were hunched over some papers on the floor with a crime scene tech, who was taking pictures. Several other techs were doing the same throughout the apartment. They really arrived quickly when you asked them. Good, they didn’t have any time to waste.

Allison turned when she noticed Derek in the room. “Lydia says that she’s ready to come take a look at the body whenever we’re ready.” She turned back to suggest a spot where the tech should take a picture. She  continued on without looking back. “She also said she would prefer it if we could hurry it up, because she doesn’t have all day.”

Derek snorted. “Tell Lydia she can come pick up the body whenever she wants.” They had no reason to keep it ad honestly he didn’t want to look at it anymore. A sane person can only handle a corpse for so long.

Allison nodded and pulled out her cell phone. Derek set about looking for the object again. He scoured the living room, searching under everything he could without affecting the crime scene.

He found nothing.

He looked over at the upturned couch. Figuring it was his last chance, he called over a few techs. “Hey, can you guys lift this couch up for me? I want to look underneath it.”

Two of the techs held the couch up while another held a light and flashed it underneath. Derek knelt to the floor, surveying the area beneath the couch, and caught sight of something that reflected in the sliver of light the tech was offering.

“Guy, I think I found something,” he called out to the rest of his team. He stepped back to retrieve a pair of gloves from one of the techs as Allison and Erica came over to sand near the couch. Boyd ventured out of the bathroom and joined them. He slipped the gloves on and moved under the upturned furniture. He fished around until he made purchase with the item he had seen.  He pulled it back into the light.

What Derek found wasn’t exactly what he expected. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What is it?” Erica asked. She peeked around his shoulder in attempts to get a look.

Derek turned around and held it up. “A camera,” he spat. “Someone killed him with his own camera.”

\-----

Derek slammed through the front door of his apartment. His day had been long and frustrating and had left him with more questions than answers. All he wanted to do was sprawl out in his and sleep for an eternity. He bypassed the living room and Stiles completely, opting to make a beeline for his room. Without even bothering to shut the door behind him, he face planted onto his bed.

Stiles shuffled over and stood in the doorway. He was still in his pajamas from the night before, soft flannel pants slung low on his hips, and he eating something out of a bowl. “Bad day at the office?” he asked around a mouthful. “You want to talk about it?”

Derek grunted and turned his face toward Stiles. “You know I can’t,” he grumbled. He wasn’t sure that he would tell Stiles if he could. Some things just didn’t need to be talked about ever. Like the fact that Derek could see Stiles hip bone sticking out where his shirt had rucked up.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, resolutely ignoring that thought. “Hey, what are you eating?” He asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Some shit I found in the fridge. I mixed it together and popped it in the microwave.”

Derek groaned. “That’s disgusting.” He knew for a fact that the only things he had in the fridge were days old take out leftovers.

“Well maybe if you actually bought some real food I would have to resort to such grave choices.” Stiles snapped.  He angrily took a bite of his food. Slowly, a grin took over his face. “You know what we should do?”

“No,” Derek answered. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

Stiles moved over to the bed, stopping in front of Derek. He set his disgusting leftover medley on Derek’s bedside table. “I was going to suggest that we go grocery shopping.”

Derek gave him a sidelong look. “You’re under protective custody.”

“Yeah, but if I’m with you, I’m still under protective custody,” Stiles pointed out.

Derek shot him down immediately. “No, Stiles. You can just make do with takeout and leftovers until I get a chance to go pick a few things up.” The last thing he wanted to do was take Stiles shopping. He didn’t want to anything that involved leaving his bed, but he especially didn’t want to do that.

Stiles threw his hands in the air. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you actually did that! You haven’t had anything substantial in your kitchen the entire time I’ve been here.”

Derek’s face went hot with embarrassment.  He felt like a child being chastised which was ridiculous. He was an adult goddammit. He glared at Stiles like the mature adult he was.

Stiles pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t give me that, grumpy gills. You can’t live like this. _I_ can’t live like this! It’s beyond unhealthy.”

Derek bat Stiles’ hand away. “Too bad, you don’t really have a choice.”

Stiles chuckled. “Oh, that’s what you think buddy. I’ll have you know I can be very persuasive.”

“Oh really, how’s that?”

Stiles just gave him a sly grin. “I have my ways.”

Less than forty-five minutes later, Derek was changed out of his work suit and driving down the main road to the supermarket.

“This is beyond ridiculous,” Derek complained. He gripped the steering wheel and mentally cursed himself for getting into this situation.

“You’re just mad because I won the argument,” Stiles teased. He was fiddling with the radio dial again like it was his life goal to test Derek’s patience. Derek glowered and shoved Stiles hand away from the radio. “Argument? Stiles, you followed me around the apartment telling me the effects of MSG for a half hour.”

Stiles shrugged. “Well it worked didn’t it?” He gave Derek a smug smile. “I regret nothing.”

“Whatever,” Derek huffed. He wasn’t really irritated with Stiles, more that he was irritated with himself for giving in to Stiles. He reasoned with himself it was only because he hadn’t wanted to deal with Stiles’ pestering.

Truth was, Stiles had gotten under Derek’s skin. He didn’t know how, and he certainly didn’t like it, but there it was. Maybe it was because Stiles’ sarcastic and abrasive personality reminded him of Laura. Maybe it was because had a few ideas of how to make better use of Stiles’ mouth. Either way he was fucked, as per usual in his life.

Derek pulled into the parking lot of the supermarket and made sure to get a spot right in front. When he killed the engine he bound out of the car, hurrying over to Stiles’ side. Stiles clambered out, shooting a glare at Derek.

“You really don’t need to violate my personal space, dude,” he complained. “I know that I have to stay next you.”

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. And my way is never letting you out of my sight.” Derek grabbed Stiles by the arm and dragged him into the store.

At the front of the store, Derek reached for a hand basket. Stiles shook his head and batted Derek’s hand away. Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed a cart.

The pair walked aimlessly down the aisles, grabbing things that Derek thought looked good and Stiles deemed healthy.  Every few aisles there would be a squabble over something one of them tried to sneak into the cart. It was all far too domestic for Derek’s liking.

“Stiles, if I want pizza bagels, I’ll buy pizza bagels,” he huffed. He tried to shove the box into the cart but Stiles blocked his movement.

“More like death bagels. Do you even know how much sodium is in those things?” Stiles tried to grab the box out of Derek’s hand, but Derek held on.

“What are you, my wife?”  He glared as he placed the pizza bagels back in the freezer.

Stiles held a hand up in front of him. “Hey, with the effort I’m putting in to keep you alive, you should want to put a ring on this.”

Derek shoved Stiles’ shoulder. “I only put them back so you would shut up,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles chuckled as stumbled. His laughter echoed through the store. Derek tried to fight down the smile on his face. So maybe this was to Derek’s liking. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Stiles laughter ended abruptly. He was looking behind Derek with a look of utter dread on his face.

Derek furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong?” He turned to see that at the end of the aisle was none other than Scott McCall. The look on his face matched Stiles’. This was bad. Very, very, bad.

“Shit. Stiles we have to go. Now.” Derek grabbed the cart with one hand and Stiles’ arm with other. McCall was yelling something, seemingly frozen in his spot.  Derek ignored his words and rushed Stiles to the checkout line.

Stiles was still looking back in the direction of McCall. Derek tried to capture his attention. “Stiles. Stiles! Look at me.” He grabbed Stiles face in his hands, ignoring the weird looks the cashier was throwing him while ringing up their groceries. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to grab these groceries and we’re going to go back to the apartment, okay?”

Stiles nodded, his eyes glazed over. Derek only let Stiles go to pile the grocery bags in his arms. He led Stiles to the Camaro as best as he could without dropping anything. When they reached the car Stiles slumped against it wordlessly Derek had never seen him this quiet and still, not even when he was bleeding out in Derek’s arms. It was bothersome,

. After throwing the bags in the trunk, Derek more or less shoved Stiles into the passenger seat. The he moved around and slipped into the driver’s seat.

He had only just turned out of the parking lot when he heard Stiles’ labored breathing break the tense silence. He turned to see that Stiles was bone pale, with sweat dotting his forehead.  HE looked like he might either pass out or throw up.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Derek looked back and forth between Stiles and the road. He thought about reaching over and resting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder but decided against it. He didn’t want to make anything worse.

“Panic. Attack.” Stiles wheezed. He cupped his hands on either side of his head and bent forward, putting his head between his knees.

Derek pulled the car over the second he got the chance. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He’s never witnessed a panic attack and had no idea what to do. Frankly, he was concerned that none of his police training was helping him.

“Not. Really,” Stiles gasped. “Just have. To wait it out.”

Derek nodded, but stopped when he realized Stiles couldn’t see him. He went against his previous judgment and opted to rub Stiles’ back as soothingly as he could. He felt the rigid muscles slowly lose tension.

After a minute or so, Stiles’ breathing evened out. He sat up, causing Derek’s hand to slide off his back. Derek almost reached out for Stiles again, but put his hand in his lap instead. “Are you alright now?”

Stiles let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t look fine, Derek let it go. “Do you have any water?” Stiles asked.

Derek fished around in the back seat until he produced a half empty water bottle. He handed it off to Stiles. “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got,” he mumbled. He mentally kicked himself for not being able to be of more help. Or of any help really.

Stiles took a long gulp of water. “Thanks.” He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Derek felt a pang in his chest. Stiles was apologizing for something else, more than the panic attack. It was there in his eye before he turned. Derek didn’t push to find out what that was. He just spoke softly. “Don’t apologize.” He hesitated before asking. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“The panic attacks? Not really anymore.” Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his head. “I used to get them a lot after my mom died.”

Derek blinked. It was the first time Stiles had willingly talked about his past. In fact, it was the most he had said about his past at all. He tried to roll with it as casually as possible, pretending that it wasn’t the big deal that it was.

“That was the first time that you’ve seen Scott since you were shot?” he asked.  He felt dumb for asking because he knew the answer. Derek wasn’t really the best at talking. But he felt that this was something Stiles needed to talk about.

Stiles let out a soft chuckle. “Well it’s not like he could come round your apartment.”

“I know,” Derek grunted. He knew he was shit at this, at being a support system, but he was trying. “I just. I know it’s hard, okay. He’s your best friend.”

“He’s like my brother,” Stiles replied absently. Derek noticed that the color was returning to his face.

“Exactly. He’s your family. So it makes sense for you to be upset.” Derek forced himself to focus on Stiles and not how much this situation reminded him of the fact that he had lost the only thing close to family he had left.

Stiles looked at Derek for a moment. “I don’t even know if he knows what happened to me. He might think I’m just ignoring him. But I’m not.” His eyes were frantic. “I’m in freaking protective custody because I shot. All because he’s in some deep shit that I tried to help him out of. I’m a dumbass.”

“Do you blame him?” Derek asked. If he were Stiles he would blame Scott for putting him in this situation.

Stiles balked. “What? No. No way. He couldn’t have known what I was doing.”

Derek gave him a small smile. “Look. You’re a dumbass, I can’t argue that. But you’re also a pretty good friend from the sound of things.”

 “Thanks, I think?” Stiles hesitated a moment before adding “You know you’d be a pretty good friend too if you just let people in.”

Derek frowned and faced forward in his seat. “Yeah, well.” This conversation was not and would not be about him and his mountain of issues.

“Oh, come on. Don’t close up on me now,” Stiles begged. He had a look on his face that was like a knife to Derek’s gut. Pity was one thing, but this wasn’t that. It was like worry and concern and things Derek didn’t want or ask for.

Derek  started the car, pulling onto the road and avoiding Stiles’ gaze. “We have to get these groceries back to the apartment before things start going bad,” he mumbled.

Stiles sighed and turned to watch the road from the window.

\-----

Derek showed up to work the next day in a horrible mood. The events of the previous night were weighing his mind. He had completely ignored Stiles in the morning, not wanting to have to see those warm brown eyes look at him with pity or worry or whatever it was. But had made sure to leave the coffee pot on with a few cups worth still left. He wasn’t an animal.

He was slumped in his desk chair, trying to look invisible. Allison tried to make conversation a few times, but gave up after Derek gave her nothing more than one words responses

Erica and Boyd eventually hustled over to the desk cluster, with looks on their face that meant Derek would have yet another reason to hate his life. He braced himself for the worst.

Erica ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, so we have good news and bad news.” She chewed on her lip, hesitating to continue.

Allison scoffed. “Is the bad news worse than our main murder suspect being murdered himself and thus not getting us any closer to knowing Alpha’s identity?”

Boyd grimaced. “We can’t locate Scott McCall.”

Derek bolted upright in his chair. “What?”

“We had a couple of uniforms tailing him,” Erica explained. “But he apparently slipped out of their sight at some point last night.”

Boyd shook his head. “We have no idea why he decided to run now, but it’s terrible timing for us.”

Derek tapped his hand against his desk hesitantly. He looked at Erica and Boyd. Huffing out a breath, he confessed. “I think I know why he ran.”

Allison joined the conversation. “What do you mean?”

“I saw him last night.” Derek looked at the floor. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to talk about it. He should’ve know not to hope for things.

“You what?” Erica yelled. A few people in the bullpen turned and looked, but she glared until they looked away. She leaned over Derek’s desk. “What do you mean you _saw_ _him last night_?” She hissed.

“I was at the grocery store,” Derek explained. “I was informed that I had a lack of substantial food at my apartment. I happened in McCall in the frozen section.”

Allison leaned forward towards Derek. “Wait, if you went grocery shopping, who was with Stiles?”

Derek hesitated, scratching at the back of his neck. “He was with me.”

Erica, Boyd, and Allison collectively groaned.

“What were you thinking, man?” Boyd asked. “Stiles is under protective custody is to keep him _away_ from Scott. And anyone else involved with Alpha.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Derek roared. “Stiles wouldn’t leave me alone about groceries, and I couldn’t leave him by himself. How was I supposed to know his delinquent best friend shopped at the same supermarket?”

Erica crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re lucky, Hale. There might actually be a way to fix your grievous error.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “And how’s that?” He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know.

She flashed them a wicked grin. “That’s our good news. You’ll never guess who came to the station this morning. Not only offering to tell us everything he knows, but offering his services as well.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. There was no way. “Who? Lahey?”

Erica smirked. “Yep.”

“Why would he offer to help us? Especially now?” Allison asked, pursing her lips. Derek wanted to know the same thing. Isaac had tried so hard to _evade_ them, now he was running _to_ them? What changed?

Boyd shrugged. “Honestly, we have no idea. But we could really use the help. Certainly after our setback. No offense.” He shot Derek a sympathetic grimace.

Derek glared back at him but pressed on. “Where is Lahey now?”

Erica piped up. “He’s in interview room three.”

“Well, let’s go see what he has to say.” Derek rose from his chair and turned toward the wall of windows that comprised of interviewing rooms.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” Allison asked. Once again, she was twisting her necklace in her hands.

“Just hurry up,” Derek spat. He wanted know what Lahey, wanted, but more importantly he wanted to know what he knew. He hustled down the hall to the interview rooms. The others quickly fell in line behind him.

 They stopped outside interview room three, looking in through the window at Lahey. The interview rooms were much more comfortable than the interrogation rooms, and Lahey was sitting in a foldout chair with a cup of what Derek guessed was cocoa on the table. It was untouched.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of ruse?” Allison asked. She was peering in the window with a wary expression.

“Well, that doesn’t really seem like Alpha’s game.” Boyd answered. “Besides, what would Lahey get out of it?”

“My bet is that he heard that McCall took off and doesn’t want to be saddled with backlash.” Erica offered. “He wants an out and we can provide him the safest possible option.”

“Doesn’t want to deal with the backlash, or doesn’t want to be involved if McCall isn’t?” Derek wondered aloud.

Alison furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well you said that they were close right? Maybe it was more than we realized. I mean, maybe  they’re actually friends.”

Erica scoffed. “What, like butt friends?”

Derek rolled his eyes. She was either completely missing his point, or purposely being an ass. Either way he had a point to make. “Whatever it is - or was - maybe we can use it to our advantage.”

Allison nodded along to his words. She looked at Erica and Boyd. “Let Derek and I take this one. He’s working a pretty solid angle and I think I can keep up. She had that determined look in her eye again, but it was softer this time. Less murderous.

Erica made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “By all means. We’ll be out here if you need us.”

Derek nodded and entered the room, Allison right behind him. Isaac looked a little confused, but schooled his face into his signature arrogant smirk. Derek was starting to get the feeling that this kid’s attitude was all just a façade.

He took the seat across from Lahey and waited for Allison to take the one beside him. Once she was settled, he turned to Lahey and gave him the smallest, gentlest smile he could muster and asked “How are you doing, Isaac?”

Lahey’s eyes darted between Derek and Allison then down at the floor. He absently picked at a hangnail. “Not so good,” he mumbled.

Derek feigned concern. “And why’s that?”

Lahey blew out a breath. “Things are just. Everything is screwed up.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. The kid was really obviously freaked.

Allison rested her hand on the table near Isaac’s, not quite touching him. “Why don’t you tell us what happened,” she encouraged. She flashed him a sympathetic smile.

Lahey jerked his head in a short nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”  He took a deep breath. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but he said nothing.

“Whenever you’re ready, Isaac.” Derek reassured him.

Lahey’s shoulders sagged. He gave them a helpless look. “Where do I even begin?”

Derek pretended to contemplate it. He knew exactly what he wanted Isaac to tell them. “Why don’t you start with how you met Scott McCall?”

Isaac looked at his hands. “I used to live with my father. He wasn’t, um, he wasn’t a very good person. He wasn’t always like that. After my brother died, he got mean. He used to-” He let out a shaky breath. “He used to hit me. A lot.” He lowered his voice, sounding so small. “Sometimes he locked me in the freezer for hours.”

Derek was too shocked to say anything. Allison grabbed Isaac’s hand, giving him a watery smile. “You’re okay. You’re doing good,” she whispered.

He nodded, took another deep breath, and continued. “Scott’s mom lived across the street and he visited her a lot. He was always so nice to me. Waving and smiling, asking how my day was, that kind of thing.” He paused, chewing on his lips. “Once, he came over to bring some mail that got sent over there by mistake. He was saw the bruise on my cheek, and started asking all these questions. It was the first time anyone did.” He wrinkled his brows. “I kind of broke down and told him everything.”

“What did he do when you told him?” Derek asked softly. His feigned concern had melted into real worry.

“He told me to hold tight and that he would take care of it. He asked me if there was anywhere I could go. I told him I didn’t have anyone.” Lahey sighed, rubbing his free hand along his jaw.

“How exactly did he take care of it?” Derek prompted. He knew how he would have handled someone doing that to their kid. Not in a way that the law agrees with.

Isaac shrugged. “I have no idea. The next week my dad drove out to get something from the store and never came back. I didn’t ask any questions.”

Allison leaned over without letting go of Isaac’s hand and whispered in Derek’s ear. “Do you remember that homicide I told you we thought McCall was involved with last spring?” Derek nodded. “The body was burned so badly it couldn’t be identified. It was found in a car that was stripped of all plates.”

Derek looked back at Lahey. “When did this all happen, Isaac”

“Um, last March I think.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. He shared a looked with Allison.  They might have just accidentally solved another murder.

“What happened after that?” Allison asked.

“Well, I couldn’t afford to pay for the house on my own. I didn’t have a job or anything,” Lahey explained. “So Scott helped set me up at a place. An apartment where a friend of his lived.”

Derek fit the pieces together in his head. “Matt Daehler.”

Lahey looked surprised. “Yeah, how’d you know?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Anyways, Scott set me up with Daehler but I felt like a burden. Scott told me he had a way for me to make money so I could afford my own place.”

“And that’s how you started dealing,” Allison concluded.

Isaac nodded. “I didn’t want to, but Scott told me that it was really safe and that we’d be taken care of. At first he would just give me some bags to sell on the street, the after a few weeks he told me that his boss said I could start moving them.”

Derek leaned forward and looked Lahey in the eye. “How do you guys move all of it?” It was something the department had never really been able to figure out.

Isaac looked confused. “Like the whole process?” Derek nodded. “I only really know my part. A car would show up at my apartment, the keys in my mailbox. The trunks had false bottoms with drugs underneath. I would take a kilo to sell. Then I’d drive the car to a diner and meet a man for coffee. We would make small talk for about an hour, and then switch keys. I would drive his car home. In the morning it would be gone.”

Derek blew out a breath. “That’s pretty creative.” It was more complex and thought out than any system he’d seen or heard of before. No wonder they’d gone so long without being caught.

Allison settled her chin in the hand not currently holding Isaac’s. “The man you had coffee with, could you describe him?”

“Um, yeah. He was about this tall,” Isaac held his free hand a little higher than his head. “He was kind of creepy, and he wore glasses. He was also a bit of a dick.”

Allison hummed. “Maybe we can set you up with a sketch artist, get a picture out to the press.”

Derek opened his mouth to agree with that idea, but his phone rang. He checked the ID to see  Greenberg's name flash on the screen. A shot of panic went through him. “Sorry, I have to take this,” he murmured. Without waiting for a response, he excused himself to the hall. Erica and Boyd eyed him as he passed but he ignored them. Once he was a safe enough distance away he answered.

“Hale.” There was no answer, only heavy breathing followed by a muffled groan. “Hello?” Greenberg?”

“Derek?” It was Stiles. He breathed hard into the phone and Derek’s stomach dropped. “Derek, Greenberg’s dead.”

\-----

Derek kicked in the door to his apartment, gun drawn. Allison was directly behind him, as were several uniformed officers.

There was no one inside, save for the sprawled body of Officer Greenberg. There was a gunshot wound in his chest and a pool of blood on the floor. Derek searched the living room frantically as the others cleared the scene.

“Stiles? Stiles! Where are you?” Derek heard Allison calling for Crime Scene while he checked every nook and cranny in the apartment. “Stiles.” He called out once more. Still no answer. Running a hand through his hair desperately, he noticed his closed bedroom door. Derek never closed the door when he wasn’t in the room.

He slammed open the door, producing a small squeak of fear from the closet. Derek released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Utterly relieved, he walked over and opened the closet slowly. Huddled in the back corner was Stiles, looking as young as Derek had ever seen him. Derek exhaled again, put his gun back in holster, and dropped to his haunches.  He gently reached out a hand and rested it on Stiles’ shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he reassured quietly. He couldn’t keep the small smile that was forming off his face. Stiles had just been through another traumatic event, but he was _alive_.

Stiles was shaking, his face red and streaked with tears.  He looked at Derek hesitantly before lunging forward and enveloping him in a hug. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ back without thought, stroking his fingers down his spine.

Eventually, Derek pulled back. He stood, dragging Stiles up as well. Rubbing his hands up and down Stiles’ arms, he asked. “Can you tell me what happened?” Stiles just gave him a blank stare, eyes glazed. The shock was settling over him. Derek let out a frustrated sigh. “God damn it, Stiles.” he said quietly. “What happened?”

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his trance. He licked his lips and began talking rapidly. “I was watching a movie when there was a knock at the window. I freaked and ran for Greenberg. He checked the fire escape, but no one was there. When he came back in, Scott followed him -”

“Scott?” Derek interrupted.

“Yeah.” Stiles huffed, throwing his arms in the air. “I don’t know how he found me, but he did. Anyway, he came up behind Greenberg, and tried to take him down. They fought, and somehow Scott got ahold of his gun. Then he - he shot him.” Stiles’ shoulders sagged, the adrenaline leaving his body. “I ran to your room and locked the door until he left. Then I had to grab Greenberg’s phone to call you.” His face scrunched at the memory.

Derek ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I should have thought of the fire escape.”

Stiles looked at him incredulously. “Are you seriously blaming yourself for this? I’m the one with the murderous criminal for a best friend.” When he spoke his voice cracked.

Derek ignored him. He didn’t need a lecture on his guilt. He needed to get Stiles out of there. “Look, this is a crime scene now. You can’t go to your apartment because Scott knows where you live, so I’m going to have one of these deputies take you to a hotel.”

Stiles vehemently shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.”

“Stiles.” Derek huffed. Taking a step back, he gestured to the living room. “I have to deal with the crime scene. I have to go find Scott.” He had put an end to all of this.

Stiles stepped forward. He pointed at Derek. “You told me to be careful who I trust. After what just happened, you’re the only person I trust at all.” The vulnerable look in his eyes proved he was sincere. It made  something in Derek’s chest tighten.

He was floored. No one had put that much trust in him since Laura. He didn’t even trust himself very much. And he couldn’t turn Stiles away, not after everything he’d been through.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you to a hotel. I won’t be able to stay with you the entire time. A squad car will be outside but that’s the best I’ll be able to do.” He wasn’t even sure is he should be doing that much, but he didn’t seem to have a choice.

Stiles nodded slowly but said nothing. He just stared at Derek with a look of soft adoration, which was crazy because Derek was not adorable. He was hard and gruff and didn’t let people close. But Stiles had managed to push past all of it. It was amazing and terrifying.

“Grab your clothes and whatever else you need, but don’t disrupt the crime scene,” Derek ordered, ignoring the turn of his stomach. “I’m going to go fill Allison in.”

Derek stepped into the living room. There were techs everywhere, taking pictures of his things. Some of which were now splattered with blood. Allison was standing next to Greenberg’s body, which Lydia Martin was currently hunched over. Erica was right, the woman worked fast. She was closely examining the bullet wound.

Derek cleared his throat. “Allison, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.” She stepped over to him, carefully avoiding messing up Lydia’s handiwork. “How Stiles?” She asked. “I heard some hushed tones so I figured I’d leave you two alone.”

“I have to take him to a hotel. He won’t go with anyone else,” he explained in a tone that insinuated it was a burden. “Are you going to be able to take care of things here?”

Allison rubbed a hand across her neck. “Of course. Do what you need to do. I’ll deal with the rest. Crime Scene’s already got most of it covered. And Lydia’s ready to move the body.”

Lydia looked up from her work. “And, Derek? When you’re done assisting your stowaway, be a dear and come by the morgue. You haven’t even seen the last body I autopsied for you.”

Allison and Derek both rolled their eyes. “Sure, Lydia.” Derek said. “You’ll be my first stop.”

Lydia went back to surveying the body. “I’d better be.”

\-----

Derek hauled Stiles inside the hotel room and shut the door behind him. The drive had been uncharacteristically silent, and even now Stiles wasn’t saying anything. He just stood next to one of the double beds, arms crossed and bottom lip between his teeth. Derek was worried about it him.

Damn it. Derek was _worried about it him_.

“Stiles,” he called softly. “You should sit down. You look like you’re ready to collapse.” Derek hesitated before moving away from the door and toward Stiles.

Absently, Stiles settled onto the bed. His face was pale and blank. It was reminiscent of the night they saw Scott at the supermarket. He mumbled something that Derek didn’t quite catch.

Derek instinctively stepped closer. “What was that?”

Stiles looked up  in horror. “I could have died.” He leapt to his a feet, a flail of arms and legs. “I could’ve died. This was almost my last day on earth. I could die and no one would notice. No one would be able to even tell my dad.” He made a distressed noise and ran his hands over his head. “Not that he would care much after the shit I’ve put him through. I doubt anyone would care.”

Derek closed the remaining gap between them and rested his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “I’d care,” he told him.

Stiles looked at him, actually looked at him for the first time since the apartment, since the fond look that Derek didn’t deserve. “What?” he asked quietly, clearly startled by the admission.

Derek blinked. He was just as surprised by his words as Stiles. But he knew they were true.  Somehow in the days of squatting on Derek’s couch, of hogging his television and forcing him to eat healthily, Stiles had crawled under his skin. Stiles had managed to do what no one had done since Laura. He’d gotten close enough to matter.

He looked at those frightened honey colored eyes in front of him And felt that familiar tightening of his chest. “I would care if something happened to you,” he reiterated, quiet and sure.

Stiles just stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open. They stood there, staring at each other for what felt like decades.  Stiles moved his arm towards Derek, but changed his mind halfway through, dropping it back to his side. Then he lunged forward and captured Derek’s hips with his hands and lips with his own.

Derek melted into the kiss, cupping the sides of Stiles face with his hands.  Stiles responded by wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist and pressing firmer against Derek’s lips. Derek repeated the action, matching Stiles’ enthusiasm. Stiles groaned, and Derek took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth.

Derek’s brain caught up with him eventually. He gently, reluctantly, shoved Stiles back.. They were both breathing heavily and Stiles had that look of adoration was on his face again.

“Stiles,” Derek panted. “We can’t.”

Stiles face broke into a frown. “Why not? You want it just as much as I do, tell me you don’t.”

Derek ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just. It’s my job to protect you-”

“I don’t give a fuck about your job!” Stiles hissed. “This is about you and me.”

Derek looked at him apologetically. “Stiles, I could get in a lot of trouble.” Not just with his job. This was something Derek didn’t do. He didn’t put his faith in people because people didn’t stick around. They would leave or die. Then Derek would be alone again.

Stiles wrapped his hands around the lapels of Derek’s suit jacket. “Derek, please,” he begged, his voice laced with vulnerability Derek hadn’t known he was capable of. “I need you.”

Derek’s heart thudded in his chest. His brain was yelling at him to run, run away as far and as fast as possible. But  maybe Derek was  tired of running. Maybe it was time he let himself have what he wanted. And what he wanted was Stiles.

He crashed his lips against Stiles’. The kiss was much deeper and dirtier than the first. With each slide of his tongue, Derek could feel himself letting go. He felt free for the first time in a long time.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and tried to pull their bodies even closer, which was nearly impossible. Derek moved his hands to Stiles’ thighs and hoisted him up. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist.

Derek moved them to the bed. He gently set Stiles onto it before climbing on top of him. His lips attached themselves to the vein in Stiles’ neck. Judging by the sounds he was making, Stiles approved.

“Derek,” Stiles panted. It was music to Derek’s ears. He moved off of Stiles and sat up. He removed his suit jacket and tie as fast as possible before bending down to seal his mouth over Stiles’ once more.

Stiles’ hands reached up and began undoing the buttons of Derek’s shirt. He cursed into Derek’s mouth when he fumbled. A light laugh bubbled out of Derek. Stiles looked surprised, but laughed as well, full and loud. Derek’s heart soared.

Finally, Derek was out of his shirt. He knelt up to throw it to the floor. When he turned back, Stiles was gaping. He arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“You,” Stiles swallowed. “You have the body of a god. How is that even fair?”

Derek snorted. “ You’ve seen it before,” he reminded Stiles.

“Yeah but never like this. It’s so much hotter. You’re so much hotter you’re so hot.” Stiles quit rambling when Derek pressed their mouths together once more. Then he moved to remove Stiles’ shirt, but Stiles shook his head.

“No way, dude. I can’t compete with that. I’ll just keep this on.” He grabbed the hem and pulled it down farther.

Derek rolled his eyes. Sighing, he said, “If you keep yours, I’m putting mine back on.” He pretended to get up and find it when Stiles protested.

“No! That isn’t necessary.”  He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor. “Okay, the shirt is off. Happy now?” He grumbled.

Derek flashed him a smug smile. “Almost.” He made quick work of removing the rest of their clothing until they were both completely naked. “There, now I’m happy.”

Stiles stared up at him, eyes clouded with lust. “Okay,” his voice cracked.

Derek plastered his body over Stiles and took his mouth again. Stiles arched his back and threw a leg over Derek’s. Derek lined their hips up and thrust down.

Stiles moaned against Derek’s mouth. He ground up, causing Derek’s nerves to short circuit. He breathed out Stiles’ name as they moved against one another. Derek was achingly hard and while he could keep the frottage up all night, he wanted to do something else.

“Stiles,” he puffed. “Stiles, can I?” He was almost afraid to ask, afraid to push too far. This was happening incredibly fast. But Stiles nodded and smiled. He dragged his cheek across Derek’s stubble.

“Of course. Yes. Definitely.” Stiles breathed, reading his mind.

Derek gave him a chaste, thankful kiss. “Do you have anything?” he asked. He hadn’t exactly expected to need lube.

Stiles rested his head against the pillow and considered for a moment. “There’s some lotion in my bag,” he suggested. “And I think there’s condoms in the nightstands at this hotel.

Derek reluctantly untangled himself from Stiles, feeling cold once he was separated. Stile grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer while Derek rummaged through Stiles’ bag. Eventually, he found the small bottle. He lumbered back to the bed and slipped back between Stiles’ legs. He moved to open the bottle, but hesitated. He looked to Stiles with uncertainty. “Are you sure?” He asked.

Stiles pushed himself up. He grabbed Derek’s face in his hands and kissed him slow. He pulled back and grinned at Derek. “I’m one hundred percent sure, okay?”

Derek nodded, his stubble scratching at Stiles’ hands. Stiles moved to turn onto his stomach, but Derek stopped him. “No, I want to see your face.”

Stiles conceded and leaned back onto the bed. He spread his legs and looked up at Derek. “Whatever you want,” he whispered. Derek nearly came right there.

He coated his fingers with lotion. Then he reached for Stiles’ dick and gave it a few strokes. Stiles let out a soft gasp. Derek’s hand continued down until he was circling Stiles’ hole with his index finger. He moved up to kiss Stiles, who moaned into his mouth.

Slowly, Derek pushed his finger inside Stiles. Stiles’ entire body shuddered. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. Derek thought it was a truly beautiful sight.

Derek moved his finger in and out, dragging it gently. Stiles moved underneath him. Derek added a second finger, push inside even slower. Stiles groaned, slapping a hand over his face. Derek picked up the pace, moving his fingers with deliberate speed. He crooked a finger and hit Stiles’ sweet spot

Stiles arched his back even higher. “Derek,” he whimpered. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Derek didn’t need to be told twice. He removed his fingers and grabbed for the lotion bottle again. He liberally coated his dick and settled himself between Stiles’ knees. He lined his dick up with Stiles’ hole and pushed in. It was hot and tight and Derek had to stop himself from thrusting into him. He waited for Stiles to relax around him then pushed in the rest of the way. He bottomed out and stilled, reveling in the feeling.

Underneath him, Stiles squirmed. “Come on,” he urged. “Move already.”

Derek pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into him. Stiles rewarded him with a low guttural moan. Derek repeated the action a few more times, agonizingly slow. Stiles gave him a frustrated grunt, so he picked up the pace.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek. He dug his nails into his back. Derek’s hips jerked involuntarily, throwing off his rhythm. Derek cursed.

Stiles chuckled but it was cut off by a moan. Derek had to put his mouth on it, try to taste the sound. Stiles’ hands slipped from Derek’s back to cup his face.

Derek felt himself getting closer. Using one hand to brace himself, he brought the other to Stiles’ dick. He tugged him in time with his thrust.

“Derek,” Stiles grunted. “I’m close.”

Derek leaned in, speaking low in Stiles’ ear. “It’s okay. Let go.”

Stiles came hard and messy between them. His stomach was covered as was Derek’s hand. The sight was enough to send Derek over the edge. He came inside Stiles with a quick thrust of his hips. He collapsed on top of Stiles, panting and sweaty.

“Hey, as nice as this is, you’re really fucking heavy,” Stiles chuckled. He pushed at Derek’s chest with his hands.

Derek snorted and rolled off, settling into Stiles’ side. They were both a mess, well mostly Stiles, but Derek’s hand and chest were spotted with Stiles’ come. Yet neither of them made a move to get up. They stared at each other for a few minutes until Stiles spoke.

“So,” he began. “We just had sex.” His face was flushed and uncertain.

Derek didn’t say anything to that. Instead he asked, “You said something about your dad earlier. And what you’ve put him through. What did you mean?”

Stiles looked at him incredulously. “We have sex and the first thing you want to talk about is my dad?”

Derek shrugged. He cared about Stiles, and he wanted Stiles, but he didn’t _know_ Stiles.

Stiles sighed and propped himself up on one elbow. “My mom died when I was really young. After that it was only me and my dad. He was the sheriff and I think he expected me to follow in his footsteps or something. But I did the exact opposite. I acted out, got into a lot of trouble. He was so disappointed in me. I knew I was hurting him, but I just couldn’t stop.” He let out a small chocked off sound and Derek grabbed his wrist reassuringly. “When I was fourteen I ran away and never looked back. I came here because it was where Scott lived.”

“Didn’t your dad look for you?” Derek asked softly. He couldn’t imagine letting Stiles go without a fight.

Stiles shrugged. “I’m sure he did, but I shaved my head and changed my name.”

Derek nodded. He understood what it was like to want to disappear and just be someone else. “Where did you go?”

“Well I couldn’t stay with Scott, because his mom would’ve just called my dad. So I kind of just wandered for a while until I found a place to stay.”

“And where was that?” Derek prompted.

The light in Stiles’ eyes went out. “That isn’t important.” He looked away and rubbed at his neck.

Derek opened his mouth to question that further, but his phone’s ringtone blared through the hotel room. He rolled out of the bed and searched for his pants. One he located them he fished out his phone which showed a new text from Allison. It read _At the morgue. Where are you? Lydia’s getting mad._

Derek huffed and headed for the bathroom. He spoke while he walked. “I have to get back to work. You’ll be okay here, right?” He entered the bathroom and began washing his hands. “Stiles? Did you hear me?”

He heard Stiles mutter, “What? Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Derek furrowed his brows while he toweled of his chest. Stepping out of the bathroom, he looked at Stiles. He looked upset and was chewing on his lip again. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just don’t talk about my past a lot is all.”

Derek wasn’t sure if that was the truth but he let it go. He picked up the clothes he’d haphazardly discarded and began to dress. Once he was done he leaned over and kissed Stiles quickly just because he could. “I’ll be back later tonight. Probably late.” He crossed the room and grabbed the door handle. He had just twisted the knob when Stiles called his name.

“No matter what happens, I want you to know that this,” Stiles swallowed. “You and me. It’s the most real thing I’ve felt in a long time.”

Derek smiled, a little confused. “Me too,” he admitted before slipping out the door.

\-----

Derek stepped into the morgue and was immediately accosted by a fuming Lydia Martin.

“I told you to come here as soon as you dropped off your charge. It’s been over an hour!” She snapped. She even tapped one of her high-heeled feet at him.

Derek held his hands up in front of him. He looked to Allison, Erica, and Boyd for assistance, but they offered none. They all just stood around the body on the examining table, looking at him with mixed looks of amusement and annoyance. In any other career that would be a weird situation.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Stiles was kind of a mess. He needed me.”

Lydia arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’s very cute but we have more pressing matters to attend to. Like the two dead bodies you saddled me with.”

Derek ran a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Then get on with it.”

Lydia turned on her heel and flounced to the head of the examining table. Derek followed her and settled next to Allison. She looked over at him, furrowing her brows. “Why is your suit so wrinkly?” She asked.

Derek shrugged nonchalantly, hoping his face wasn’t turning red. He turned his attention back to Lydia. She was pulling the sheet off the body, revealing Greenberg’s pale sunken face.

“The victim died of a gunshot wound to the chest. It missed his heart, but it decimated some of his major arteries. He went into hypovolemic shock, bled out in a matter of minutes.” She explained. She gestured to a large purple spot on his forearm. “There’s some bruising on his arms that show signs of a struggle. There were traces of gunshot residue around and  inside the bullet wound.”

“So the gun was held straight to his chest?” Erica asked.

“Looks like it.” Lydia walked over to her desk and grabbed a few sheets of paper. She handed one to each of them. “I sent a sample of the GSR as well as epithelial tissues I found under Greenberg’s fingernails to the lab. Obviously, the gun he was killed with was his own. Unfortunately, the only fingerprints on the gun were his. The DNA from the epithelial tissues didn’t match any in the system either.”

Derek furrowed his brows. “That doesn’t make any sense. McCall’s DNA _is_ in the system.”

“Well then whoever Greenberg scratched wasn’t McCall.” Lydia shrugged.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Boyd asked the question no one else was willing to. “So there’s no way to tie him to the crime?”

Lydia looked down at the body. “No, there isn’t,” she answered quietly. She shook her head and plastered a smile on her face. “Let’s move on shall we.” She hustled over to the examining table to her left. Derek and the others followed suit and stationed themselves around it.

She pulled the sheet down and exposed Daehler’s body. He was pale and a part of his head was shaved, putting his head wound on display. His arms were covered in gashes and his fists were bruised.

“This one is much more complicated. He suffered blunt force trauma to the head, which led to severe hemorrhaging. The cuts and bruises on his arms indicate he fought back with every inch of his life.” Lydia reached a gloved hand down and held Daehler’s eye open. “However, the cause of death was asphyxiation. Note the petechial hemorrhage in the white of his eye.” They all leaned forward to see the red that had encircled Daehler’s iris.

“That explains why we found him in his bathtub,” Erica concluded. “Someone drowned him.”

“Exactly,” Lydia agreed. “And with this level of petechia and the amount of water I found in his lungs, I’d say someone held him under the water for several minutes.” Once again she retrieved sheets of paper from her desk and dispersed them. “I took swabs of the blood I found on his head and forearms, and the lab yielded much better results than they did with Greenberg. Some of the blood wasn’t his.”

“Whose was it?” Boyd asked.

 “It belonged to one Adrian Harris. He’s a teacher at Beacon Hills High School.” Lydia pointed to a spot on the sheet that showed Harris’ picture. He was pale with dark hair, beady eyes, and glasses. “His fingerprints were also on the camera that was used to cave in Daehler’s skull.”

Erica’s mouth dropped open. “This looks exactly like what the sketch artist drew based on Lahey’s description of the guy he would meet at the diner.”

“Stiles told me that he was talking to a man who called himself ‘the professor’ before he was shot,” Derek added. There was a high possibility this Harris was the same person. The person who had allowed Stiles to be shot.

“Maybe we should call him in for questioning. We have enough to charge him if we have to,” Allison suggested, fiddling with her necklace. Lydia flashed her a small smile.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” Boyd countered. “I mean if he’s as close with Alpha as it looks like he is, he won’t tell us anything. We need to get him in an environment where he’s comfortable talking.”

“How do we do that?” Derek asked. He would do whatever it took to get this guy.

Erica gave them a mischievous smile. “I think I know a way.”

A few minutes later the entire team and Isaac were inside Danny’s tech cave. It was a tight squeeze but they made it work.

“Danny Mahealani, this is Isaac Lahey.” Derek introduced, mirroring the gesture Boyd had made introducing Derek. “He’s going to be our informant tonight.”

Danny shook Isaac’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Now I’m going to need you to turn around and bend over.”

Isaac balked and took a step back. “What?”

Danny chuckled. “No, I need to fit you for your wire. Come on.” He coaxed Lahey into position and began slipping the wire down the back of his pants.

“You know in the movies, they always just taped it to the guy’s chest,” Isaac grumbled. His face was a light shade of red.

“That’s exactly why we don’t do that anymore,” Danny explained. “It’s way too obvious. Now we fit it behind your pants pocket because the fabric is thick enough to hide it, but the sound still comes through.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Isaac nodded, relaxing and letting Danny do his job. When Danny was finished, Isaac stood up and gave him a small smile.

Allison rested her hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Isaac nodded seriously. “I’m positive. I messed up a lot this year. I need to make it right.”

Derek stepped over. “Let’s go over the plan.” He made brief eye contact with Erica, Boyd, Danny, and Allison before settling on Isaac. “Isaac, you’ll drive in with Erica and Boyd. They’ll drop you two blocks from the warehouse. You’ll go inside and meet Harris. Talk him up. Make him believe you just want a bigger supply. If you can slip what’s been happening into conversation casually, do it.”

Allison jumped in. “If anything is amiss you just say the word, and we’ll get you out of there as fast as possible.”

Derek nodded. “If I tell you to get out, you get out. No questions. Don’t try to be the hero.”

“Yeah, okay.” Isaac rubbed his hands together. He had a determined look in his eyes. “Let’s do this.”

Erica preened. “I told you this would be a good idea.”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “Danny, can we get the ear pieces that are connected to Lahey’s wire?”

“Sure.” Danny grabbed them from his desk and passed them around to each detective and one to Isaac. “This one connects Isaac to whatever you say into the short-wave radio.” He handed the radio to Derek, then went back to the ear pieces. “These all relay the sound from Isaac’s wire back to you. It’s also being recorded so it can be used in any criminal trial.”

Isaac looked worried at that. Derek reassured him. “Don’t worry. Nothing you say can get you in trouble. Your immunity protects you.”

“But it doesn’t protect Harris,” Allison said lowly. “And the bastard is going down.”

\-----

Derek rolled the car to a stop a safe distance from the warehouse. Isaac wasn’t yet there, and neither was Harris.

Allison stared into the darkness, squinting to see. “Do you think he’ll show?”

“Harris? He agreed to the meeting on the phone with Lahey. I don’t think he’ll go back on it now,” Derek answered. He continued to watch the warehouse through his binoculars.

Eventually, Harris pulled up in a different vehicle than Derek had last seen him driving, which went along with Isaac had told them. He looked back and forth down the street before opening the door to the warehouse and slipping inside. Derek grabbed the short-wave radio.

“Lahey, where are you?  Harris is inside the warehouse,” he called into it.

There was static in his ear piece before Isaac answered. “Yeah, sorry we hit traffic. I’m heading in now. Erica and Boyd are a street over.”

Derek looked to Allison, who nodded and dialed her phone. She checked Erica and Boyd’s position for confirmation. Once she had she gave Derek the go-ahead.

“Alright, Isaac. Go on in,” he ordered. He watched Isaac knock on the warehouse door. It swung open and he disappeared inside. The lack of vision made Derek anxious, but there was nothing they could do. It was the only in they had and they really needed it.

A deep voice, presumably Harris, spoke. “Hello, Lahey. It’s been a while.” The voice was filled with false cheer. It made Derek’s skin crawl.

 “Yeah, a lot of shit’s gone down lately.” Isaac replied. There was more static, then he continued. “I haven’t had a chance to pick up anything.”

“That’s good, Isaac,” Derek spoke into the radio. “You’re doing really well. Keep it going.”

“Yeah I noticed when you didn’t show up at the diner a couple days ago.” Derek could hear Harris’ sneer in his voice.

“Yeah,” Isaac gave a half-hearted chuckle. “So are we going to make a transfer here? How much do you have?”

“Oh, no,” Harris said. “We have to wait for Scott.”

“What?” Derek shouted. He turned to Allison, who looked just as confused. Scott wasn’t a  part of the plan.

“Scott?” Isaac asked, sounding worried. “Scott’s gone. He left.”

Harris snickered. “Well he’s back. And he’s bringing you a treat. He decided it was time you meet Alpha.”

Allison gasped. “Oh, no. This isn’t good.” She was right. Everything was falling apart.

Harris spoke again. “I, on the other hand, think you’re a dirty snitch.”

Derek grabbed the radio. “Isaac! Get out of there now!” He yelled. But it was too late. Two gunshots rang out. “Move in!” Derek hollered as and Allison jumped from the car and rushed into the warehouse. Erica and Boyd ran in behind them.

Isaac was crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood, but he was still alive. It was shockingly similar to when Stiles was shot, except now Harris was standing over Isaac  with a gun in hand. He took one look at them, threw the gun, and tried to make a break for it. Before he could get far, Boyd tackled him to the ground. He picked Harris off the ground and slapped cuffs on him.

“Adrian Harris, you are under arrest for the murder of Matt Daehler. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand the rights as they have been read to you?”

Harris just snorted. Boyd tightened the cuffs. He escorted Harris out of the warehouse, giving a small salute to the others.

Erica ran to Isaac’s side and dropped to her knees. “Oh, Isaac.” She whispered. Her eyes were wet. “I’m so sorry.” She ran a hand though his hair.

Isaac tried to speak between labored breaths. “It’s okay. Not your fault.” He tried to smile at her but grimaced in pain.

Erica placed her other hand on his face. “An ambulance is coming, okay? You need to hold on.”

Derek turned at the sound of the warehouse door slamming open. Scott McCall stepped inside. Derek held up his gun. “Police! Stay where you are.”

Scott stood there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, until he noticed Isaac on the floor. He rushed forward and knelt down, opposite Erica. His eyes welled with tears. “No, no, no, no.” he repeated. He grabbed Isaac’s hand. “This wasn’t the plan.” He murmured.

He jumped up, yelling into the warehouse. “This wasn’t the plan.” He collapsed to his knees and repeated the sentiment once more.

Allison tentatively walked over to Scott and picked him up off the floor. She turned him around and gently put cuffs on him. He didn’t resist in the slightest. If an anything, he slumped into her grasp.

“Scott McCall, you are under arrest for drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand the rights as they have been read to you?”

“Yes,” he whispered, sounding completely defeated. He just stared at Isaac, who was slipping in and out of consciousness. Derek stood away from everyone, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t failed at a plan this bad since, well since his partner was killed.

Allison attempted to lead Scott out of the warehouse. “Come on, you don’t need to see this,” she told him quietly.

The jostling seemed to awake something in Scott. He lurched forward and began screaming. “Stiles! Stiles, this is enough. I’m done.” His voice echoed through the vast empty warehouse.

Derek blinked a few times at McCall’s words. He was about to ask Allison to shut the kid up for talking crazy when he heard the sound of clapping come from behind him. He whipped around to see Stiles standing in the doorway. He stepped forward, applauding.

“Well done, Scott. I honestly didn’t expect you to hold out as long as you did. Thanks for being such a loyal friend.” He looked to Isaac, and Erica who was hunched over him protectively, and frowned, running a hand over his head. “Sorry about that. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I get where the professor was coming from.”

Derek looked at Stiles incredulously. “Stiles? You’re-” No. This wasn’t happening. Stiles had been upset for his friend. Stiles had been hurt for overstepping his boundaries. Stiles couldn’t be.

Stiles shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Were you expecting Alpha to be someone a little more terrifying? Nope, just little old me.”

Derek felt his heart drop into his stomach. His mouth went dry. “But,” he whispered. “After everything. Everything you said.  How could you do this?”

Stiles sighed, looking genuinely sad. “You know I had only planned on keeping tabs on the investigating. But then you happened. I’m sorry for how shitty things are turning out. I’m sorry for the way things are going to end.”

Before Derek could respond, Stiles pulled out a gun. Derek held his up but it was too late. Stiles turned to where Allison was holding Scott and fired.

Allison must have anticipated the move, because she turned, forcing Scott behind her. She took the bullet in the back and fell to the ground, dragging Scott down with her.

Derek watched it all happen in what felt like slow motion. He heard Erica fire her weapon beside him. It was all happening again. He was watching another partner slip away from him. He was losing everyone he cared about in one fell swoop. He was an idiot for thinking it would be any different.

He ran to where Allison holding herself up and bleeding from her back, but she waved him away. “Go. Find. Stiles” Her breathing was labored. Next to her Scott was doubled over and screaming.

Erica moved to them. “He ran to the staircase in the back. He might be going for the roof,” she informed him. “I’ve got Allison, you go find him.”

Derek froze, unsure if she stay or go. He knew bot options weren’t happy ones. Erica yelled for him to go again. He took off like a light, running for the back for the warehouse, towards Stiles.

He reached the back alley, and heard clattering on the metal fire escape. He grabbed the ladder and climbed up to the stairs. Hurrying as fast as he could, he reached the roof.

Stiles was on the other side, dangerously close to the edge. His gun was in his hand and he was swinging it aimlessly.

“Stiles,” he called as he slowly stepped closer. “Put the gun down and step back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Stiles turned around, still teetering near the edge. There were tears streaked down his cheeks. He threw his gun off the building. “I never wanted to be Alpha you know. But Peter took me in when I had nothing, let me into the business. He practically raised me. When he went to prison, I was the only one who knew how to run things like he did.” Stiles scoffed. “Better than he did. I didn’t want it but I was good at it.”

Derek blew out a breath and put his own gun back in his holster. He took another step closer.  “Listen to me, Peter groomed you. It’s what men like him do. It wasn’t your fault.” He knew it was the truth but it didn’t curb his burning sense of betrayal.

A dry, ugly laugh escaped Stiles. “It doesn’t matter. I still did all of it. I planned out murders. I had to get rid of people who talked, that’s what Peter taught me. I ended lives and kept going as if nothing happened.”

“You had Matt kill Jackson,” Derek said, wheels turning in his head. Some things still weren’t adding up. “But why did you have Harris kill Matt?”

“Matt was going to turn me in. He’d been compiling evidence, taking pictures and videos of me. We had to get rid of him.” Stiles’ voice grew small. He looked at the skyline in front of them. “ _I_ had to get rid of him.”

He continued, “The plan was that Scott and I were going to get rid of Harris because he was getting sloppy. But Harris told me Isaac had squealed so we changed the plan. I didn’t tell Scott that we had flipped the plan, that we were getting rid of Isaac instead. He was mad so he gave me up. Then I tried to shoot him. I tried to shoot my best friend.” Stiles sniffed. “Sorry about your partner by the way. I didn’t want to hurt her. She’s really nice.”

Derek tried to remain calm. He had to get Stiles to confess everything. More importantly he had to get Stiles away from the edge of the building. “What about you?” He asked. “And Greenberg?”

Stiles snorted humorlessly. “I shot myself. It was easy. Just had to brace myself for the pain.” He wiped some the back of his hand on his mouth. “Greenberg was an accident. He had heard me talking on the phone to Scott and figured everything out. He threatened to tell you, and I saw red.” He looked Derek in the eye. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to see this side of me. The real me. I wanted to be the Stiles you knew. The carefree, happy, normal Stiles. I wanted to be the Stiles you made love to today.” His voice broke. “But that isn’t me. And that is the worst part of all of this. Lying to you. Hurting you.”

Derek felt tears well up in his eyes but he blinked them away. “Was any of it real?” He hated himself for asking but he found himself desperate for Stiles’ answer.

Stiles nodded, face full of guilt and regret. “Yes, yes. Everything with you after that first night. All the things I said.” He swallowed. “Everything I felt for you was real.”

Derek looked away. “I need you to step away from the edge, Stiles,” he said in a hard tone. The purely professional one he hadn’t used since the day they met.

“Don’t you understand?” Stiles yelled. “This is it for me. I can either come with you and go to prison, or I can try to run and be killed. My life is over. I might as well just jump.”

“Stiles,” Derek pleaded. “Don’t do this. I can’t watch another person I care about die. I have so few left.” The truth of the words rang in his ears. The realest thing he’d felt for another person had been a lie and he should hate Stiles for doing that to him. Stiles destroyed what little faith Derek had left in people, and Derek still found himself caring about him. He hated himself more than he could ever hate Stiles. Stiles huffed, resigned to defeat. “If I come with you, will you visit me? In prison I mean?” he asked, sounding afraid to hope, but hopeful nonetheless.

Derek imagined visiting Stiles at the correctional facility. Stiles in a jumpsuit, shackled to a table. Derek looking Stiles in the eye and knowing near every word out of his mouth had been a lie. That would be like twisting the knife already in his back. He vigorously nodded anyway. “Of course.” Anything to get Stiles off the ledge. To keep him alive.

Stiles let out a breathed and stepped toward Derek with his forearms up and out. “Okay. Do what you have to. I trust you.”

The words ripped the remaining shreds of Derek’s heart apart. Stiles’ face looked as open and honest as ever, but Derek had learned that it didn’t mean much at all. Schooling his own face into a hard glare, he cuffed Stiles and read him his rights. 

“You are under arrest for drug trafficking and three counts of homicide. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand the rights as they have been read to you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed. “Yeah, I do.”

\-----

_8 Months Later_

Derek sat in the somewhat uncomfortable chair in Ms. Morrell’s office as the florescent bulb blinked from above. It was the last session of his required therapy and it couldn’t have come on a more ironic day.

Ms. Morrell, who never did tell Derek her first name, was watching him with a small smile. It reminded him of Chief Deaton. He began to fidget under her gaze and she finally spoke. “Today is a big day for you, Derek.”

Derek nodded. It was a big day indeed. And not for the reasons Morrell was most likely referring to. No, the day had a much deeper significance.

That day, at four thirty-five in the afternoon, at Beacon County Courthouse, was Stiles’ trial. He was being charged with four counts of drug trafficking, two counts of conspiracy to commit murder, two counts of attempted murder, and one count of assault of a police officer with a deadly weapon. If convicted, he was going to get twenty-five to life. It was the biggest case Beacon Hills had ever seen.

The idea of Stiles being in prison for life  made Derek’s stomach turn. He knew that Stiles deserved it, Stiles had done all of those things. But Stiles had also worried about Derek’s health, and made him watch bad television, and taught Derek how to laugh again. It was hard for his mind to comprehend that this organized crime leader and the kid who had slept in his couch were the same person. Even if he had seen it firsthand.

The hardest part was how badly he wanted to believe what Stiles had said. That their time together had been real. Derek remembered Stiles glassy eyes after he killed Greenberg. He remembered Stiles’ panic attack after seeing McCall at the grocery store. There was no way to fake that, right?

Derek resolutely didn’t think about the soft look of adoration that bloomed on Stiles’ face when he would look at him. He didn’t think about the feel of Stiles’ hands on his back, or the way he whispered his name, or the way he had come apart underneath him.

Something Derek would never see again.

“It seems that I lost you to your thoughts again,” Morrell said suddenly. Derek snapped his head up to look at her. “As I was saying, you’ve been doing very well. You got through eight months of therapy, and your leg seems to be doing much better.” she said encouragingly.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s completely healed,” he told her. During his chase of Stiles up to the roof he had torn the muscle of his leg, the same one he had been shot in previously. He had been so focused on getting Stiles off that ledge he hadn’t even noticed.

“That’s good to hear, Derek.” Morrell smiled at him. “I heard that you got promoted as well?”

“To lead detective, yeah,” Derek murmured. He still felt a surge of pride at that. It wasn’t a place he had ever saw himself. He was surprised they’d even given it to him after all the shit he’d messed up in the beginning.

“Well it makes sense. How many convictions have you pulled since you’ve been here?”

Derek thought for a moment. “About thirty-five. Most of them were mediocre dealers, though. Nothing big.” Since Alpha-Stiles’ ring had been taken out, the amount of drug activity had gone down considerably. They mostly dealt with kids trying to make a few bucks by selling cheap shit on street corners. Ironically, it was exactly what Derek had been hoping for when he had first come to Beacon Hills.

“Don’t sell yourself short, that’s a great success.” Morrell sounded like Allison, who was always squeezing Derek’s hand and telling him how well he was doing. She had slapped him in the back of the head when he said it was his fault she’d been shot. She’d countered by telling him it didn’t matter now, as long as they were alive.

“Now Derek, “ Morrell said gently in a tone that meant only one thing. “I know what else today is. Are you planning on going down to the courthouse?”

Obviously Morrell knew about Stiles. It was the main reason Derek had been given required therapy. The whole department knew about Stiles, or at least the fact that they had gotten close before everything that happened at the warehouse. The rest of it, the way he’d felt, that wasn’t anyone’s business but Derek’s.

“I’m going,” Derek said gruffly. “I was the arresting officer. I should be there.” He didn’t add that it might be the last time he ever saw Stiles. That the thought was tearing him up inside.

“Derek, I’m not sure if-” Morrell was cut off by the loud ringing of Derek’s cell phone which was definitely not supposed to be on during these sessions. Morrell raised an eyebrow at him.

Derek checked the caller ID to see Boyd’s name flash on the screen. “It’s work,” he mumbled. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He ignored Morrell’s protests and stepped into the hall.

“Hale,” he said into the mouthpiece. There was some muffled arguing in the background before Boyd responded.

“Sorry, Erica’s mad that I called you while you’re in session.” Derek heard Erica’s grumbling in the background but he couldn’t make out her words. “But I figured you’d want to know. Stiles’ trial has been moved up. It starts in twenty minutes.”

“What?” Derek hissed into the phone. His session still had another hour.

“We’re down here already. We can save you a seat,” Boyd suggested.

“No. I’m coming down there,” Derek insisted. “I can be there in ten if I hurry.”

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that.” Boyd chuckled and hung up without another word.

Derek looked at Morrell’s office hesitantly. Leaving was bound to get him settled with more sessions. He’d been really looking forward to not having to come back.

He ducked out of the office and hustled down the steps to the street. He hopped into the Camaro and sped down the road to the courthouse.

Somehow he seemed to hit every red light along the way.  Cursing loudly with a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, he weaved through cars in a way that he usually saved for high speed chases. He nearly caused about three accident and was flipped off by an elderly woman.

He made it to the courthouse in seven minutes.

He rushed inside after the customary wanding and pat down.  He was an officer of the law so he was allowed to keep his gun in his holster, which was reassuring in a way he couldn’t explain. The woman at the front desk had told him that Stiles trial had been moved the main courtroom so he moved to make his trek up the large marble stairs that led the path to it.

At the top of the steps Isaac was standing in front of a large metal door. He was wearing his shiny new police uniform and was clearly assigned as security for the trial.

Derek wasn’t sure why Isaac had decided to become a cop, but he understood it. After everything that he’d been through, he finally had some control over his life. And he’d passed the Academy with flying colors. Derek could admit that he was proud to have him on the force.

“Hey, Isaac,” he offered as he walked up to him. “The uniform looks good.”

Isaac grinned and fiddled with his jacket. “You think? I’m just happy to finally have it. It’s like I’m a real policeman now.”

“Yeah.” Derek gave him a small smile. “You really are.” He looked at the big metal door and tried not to think of who might be detained behind it. “So, you’re working security for this? I’m surprised the Chief allowed that.”

“Yeah, well he wouldn’t let me work last week so this was a compromise,” Isaac explained, scratching at the back of his neck.

Derek nodded solemnly.  The previous week had been McCall’s trial. He’d been convicted on all counts. Derek hadn’t gone, but Allison had. She’d returned to the office with puffy eyes and smeared makeup. No one asked and she hadn’t elaborated.

“He got six years,” Isaac said quietly. He stared at the floor and swallowed.

Derek felt a strange tug in his stomach. It hadn’t occurred to him that Isaac was going through exactly what he was going through. Not under the same context, but they were both watching someone they cared about get sent away for a very long time.

He put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and squeezed.  Isaac looked up at him in confusion. Derek was prone to physical contact with his partner and the rest of his team, sometimes even Lydia. But not so much with Isaac.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” Derek croaked. He still wasn’t good at the whole reassurance thing, but he was learning. “I know how important Scott is to you.”

Isaac nodded. Hesitantly he place his hand on Derek’s forearm. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. He’s the only friend I’ve ever had.”

“Not anymore,” Derek said resolutely. The team had taken a shine to Isaac. Especially Erica, who would barely leave his side after he was shot. The two were pretty close these days. With Erica came Boyd. He and Isaac got along surprisingly well, but Boyd got along with everyone.

Isaac looked at the floor then back at Derek with a shy smile but didn’t say anything else. Derek stepped back, letting his hand drop from Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac released Derek’s forearm.

“Okay, I’ll see you later then, yeah?” Derek asked, already walking toward the courtroom entrance.

Isaac held up a hand. “Derek, wait.”

Derek halted in his tracks. “What?” He asked. His heart was pounding but he didn’t know why.

Isaac looked around with an air of uncertainty. He swallowed. “If you want. You can see him. He’s behind this door.”

Derek nearly stopped breathing. He was right behind the door. Stiles was right behind the door. Derek had figured as much but Isaac’s words made it real.

“I-” He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to see Stiles. Hell yes, he wanted to see Stiles. But he wasn’t ready to see him. He didn’t know how to act around him now that the secret was out. Now that Stiles was on the other side of the law.  Stiles was a criminal and a liar, and Derek shouldn’t want to see him. But he really did. “It isn’t a good idea.”

Isaac pushed on. “This might be the last chance, you know. To get some answers.”

It was the nail in Derek’s coffin. He needed answers. He wasn’t sure he would get them, wasn’t sure if they would even be true answers and not more lies. But he needed to ask the questions. Stiles owed him that much.

“Okay,” Derek blew out a breath. “Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.”

Isaac flashed a relieved smile. “Good. I can give you about ten minutes. Then I have to take him into the courtroom.”

Derek gave him a short nod. “That’s fine. I shouldn’t need any more time that.”

Isaac let Derek into the heavily guarded room. Behind the metal door was chain-link gate that had to be opened by a passcode. Isaac entered it and the gate slid open.

Sitting at the small table was Stiles. He had one hand cuffed to the table and he was biting at a hangnail on the other. He was wearing a suit. Derek wondered where he could have gotten it. There wasn’t anyone to bring him one.

He looked up as Derek entered, eyes wide with shock. His features softened as he looked into Derek’s’ face. It reminded him of when Jackson had seen Allison at the prison.

Derek shifted from foot to foot, unsure of himself. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t angry. He had always imagined that if this moment came he would yell at Stiles. Tell him how much he fucked up Derek’s life. But when opened his mouth all that came out was “Where did you get that suit?”

Stiles looked startled for a moment. Then he looked down and his suit and offered Derek a small, sad smile. “Ms. McCall brought it down for me. I think it’s one of Scott’s. It’s a little too small for me. But it’s better than nothing.”

Derek’s feet seemed to remember how to move and he walked over to the chair across from Stiles’. He sat down slowly and looked at Stiles. Before he could think of how to even begin this conversation, Stiles spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not meeting Derek’s eye. “I can’t even express how sorry I am for everything. For the people who are dead. For what I did to you.”

Derek’s heart clenched. The words sounded so miserable and sincere. He gritted his teeth. “How can I believe you?” he asked.

“I understand if you don’t.” Stiles ran his uncuffed hand through his hair. It was longer now, had grown out since Derek had seen him last. “But I don’t have a reason to lie to you anymore.”

All of the questions Derek had planned to ask flew out of his head. There was only one, playing over and over in his mind. “If we,” he swallowed. “If we had met under different circumstances, what do you think would have happened?”

Stiles smiled at him softly. He hesitantly reached for Derek’s hand. Derek let him take it, intertwining their fingers together. “I’d like to think we would’ve been happy.”

Derek nodded. His throat was dry and his eyes burned with the promise of tears. He tightened his grip in Stiles’ hand.

Before either could speak again, Isaac threw the door open “Sorry, guys. Time’s up.” He gave them an apologetic grimace.

Derek let go of Stiles’ hand reluctantly and moved to exit. He halted at the door when Stiles called his name.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” he asked. His voice was laced with confusion, fear, and a little hope.

Derek thought back to when he had first met Stiles. Before everything had gone to shit. He smiled wistfully. “A friend once told me that life was too short to worry about things you can't control. I guess I believe that.”

\-----

The trial was like a blur in Derek’s mind. All he really remembers is the look on Stiles’ face as he was convicted on all charges. It was one of acceptance, and it tore through Derek like an arrow to the heart.

Now he was sitting in his apartment, with a beer in hand. It was a new apartment, in the same building Lydia lived in. His old one had a blood stain in the living room and air that smelled like Stiles.

Derek was mindlessly watching some sitcom about a single father when there was a knock on his door. Before he could even get up, the door flew open and Lydia flounced in. She was dragging Allison with her.

“We figured you could use some company,” Allison said as a way of greeting. She flopped down on the couch next to Derek while Lydia went into the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” Derek grunted. He was actually okay, despite the person he had become attached to being thrown in prison for life. “You guys don’t have to worry so much about me.”

“We know,” Lydia said, coming into the living room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She set them on the coffee table and sat down next to Allison. “But we also know that you only pretend not to enjoy our company.

Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. It was nice having them over.  He’d never really had a friend group before so it was nice. Even if they all worked together.

“Erica and Boyd said they’ll stop by when their shift is over,” Allison informed them, pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Yeah, Isaac will probably be over later, too.” Derek added. “ He’s been kind of down lately.”

Lydia snatched the remote from Derek and changed the channel. “He should really let me set him up with Danny. I think they’d be cute together.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Allison wondered aloud. “Is Isaac really Danny’s type?”

Derek tuned out the girls’ conversation. He briefly let his mind wander to what this would be like if Stiles was there. He’d probably roll his eyes and make lewd comments. Derek smiled at the thought, and found it didn’t hurt so much to think about him anymore.

And yeah, maybe he couldn’t have Stiles, maybe he would never feel that way about someone again. But maybe he would. Sitting there on the couch with two of his best friends, Derek reveled in the feeling of hope and something else.

He was content.

**Author's Note:**

> The character deaths are Jackson, Matt, and Greenberg. And Laura sort of, but not on screen.
> 
>  
> 
> I did a ton of research for this but anything I didn't know I based off of Law and Order: SVU, so sorry if some of it is unrealistic. Also, the method used to move the drugs was really used by a cartel in Florida in the 80's. I learned about it in a documentary called "Cocaine Cowboys." 
> 
> I can't even begin to express my thanks to [Cristine](http://mccalled.tumblr.com), who held my hand during the entire process, let me complain about not making the 20k requirement, and again let me complain when it doubled that and spun out of control. 
> 
> EDIT: The sequel is no longer in the works, seeing as I've left the fandom and have no intention of returning. Sorry to everyone that waited but I don't think it's fair to my readers or myself to write something when my heart isn't in it.


End file.
